


The Baltimore Butcher

by ladyshade83



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse Mentioned, Dominance/submission, F/M, NSFW, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Sexual Content, Violence, rape mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 122,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25813138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyshade83/pseuds/ladyshade83
Summary: Meet Mattea Smith, a young author that had recently moved to Baltimore.  She gets targeted by a serial killer and is brought into the protection of the FBI in Dr. Hannibal Lecter's home.  Things progress.
Relationships: Hannibal Lecter/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

So, I guess trauma was kind of my thing now. A few days ago, I’d been pushed down my stairs by some weirdo who said he loved me. I just love stalkers, don’t you? They’re great.

Ok, back up a bit. My name is Mattea Smith, I’m an author living in Baltimore. I’ve only been here a month and this happens? Wow, not a great start. I stand at a statuesque five-foot-two and weigh about a hundred pounds, and most of that was in my chest. I have long chocolate brown curls that can reach my hips. I have dark brown eyes, high cheekbones, small nose, and thick lips. At this point in time, I was in a wrap dress that hung down past my knees. The print was black with white calla lilies, my favorite flower. The dress had long sleeves that reached just below my wrist. I was sat in my home with loads of people with “FBI” all over their jackets running through and making a mess.

“Miss Smith,” a middle aged attractive black man said to get my attention. His name was Special Agent Jack Crawford. He was polite to me, so I was polite to him. He was tall, probably over six feet. He stood over me like a mountain while I sat on my sectional in my sitting room. “Miss Smith, I would like to put you in protective custody.”

“Oh, no,” I responded, shaking my head and making my curls bounce around my shoulders and back. “I’m not uprooting my life because some guy thinks he loves me. I’ve had stalkers before.”

“Yes, and the last one caused you to move here from Idaho, isn’t that right?” Agent Crawford said to me impatiently. He sighed and crouched. “Listen, if we’re right, this guy won’t just stalk you or push you. He’ll kill you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, all of my bluster faltering and blowing away.

“Have you heard of the Baltimore Butcher?” the Agent asked. I frowned and shook my head, my eyes going to the man with dark curly hair and glasses behind him. He looked uncomfortable, but my dog had glued himself to him and that seemed to calm the gentleman. “Well, this is his MO. He stalks women for a few weeks, then makes contact. If he’s rejected, he lashes out and kills them. The description given to the police matches his description to a T. He’s made contact with you, you rejected him, politely, and he shoved you down the stairs. That should have killed you, but all it did was fracture your ankle. That might have scared him off for now, but he will try again.”

“He’s fixated on you,” the man petting my mutt said. It was the first time he spoke. He didn’t make eye contact. Just kept petting my dog, who usually hated every male he met, but seemed to love this guy. “He won’t stop until you’re his, and that means your death. The only reason he didn’t take you, kill you, and leave you in the woods is probably because you were so polite to him, among other things. You didn’t yell, you didn’t scream, you just politely said that you were late. You didn’t deny him. He still thinks he has a chance. He will come again and he won’t stop.”

I took in all the information I was being given. “So you mean this guy is a serial killer?” I asked him.

“Yes, and you’re his intended victim.”

“Forgive me,” Crawford said standing. “This is Special Agent Will Graham. He’s consulting on the case. He’s, uh, got a thing for animals.”

I laughed. “It seems my animal has a thing for him, too.” Graham smiled slightly and rubbed behind my goofy Frank’s ear. “That doesn’t explain why you’re all here going through my home,” I said, turning back to Crawford.

Graham answered. “We need to know what drew him to you. You’re different from the others. You’re not a native, you’re not taller, and you’re older than his other victims.” He looked at me then, frowning. “But you don’t look like it. You’re thirty-two, aren’t you?”

I blushed. This was a conversation I had often since I looked like I was in my early twenties. “Good genes,” I said simply. I nibbled my bottom lip and looked around, seeing nothing. “I still don’t see why I have to leave my house. Wouldn’t it be better if I stayed and he found me? If you watched me, you could find him before he had the chance to grab me.”

“You want to be bait?” Graham asked, almost aghast at the suggestion.

“Yeah, I guess,” I responded. “You said he normally takes the women and kills them before you have the chance to get him. It took you a few days to find me because normally he doesn’t assault and run, right?” Crawford nodded, his brain ticking away at all the possibilities. “So I’m perfect. He’s already ‘fixated’ on me. Why not? You can post people outside and hell, some can even stay in the house. I do have three extra bedrooms that they can stay in. I don’t mind that, I just need to be able to write. I can’t do that in an uncomfortable environment.”

“Having people in the house would keep him away,” Crawford said softly. 

“Jack, you can’t honestly be thinking about this,” Graham said almost angrily. “This plan puts her at risk and we’ll have another body on our hands.”

“Let me think, Will!” Jack shouted back. My eyes widened for a minute at the exchange. Obviously not unheard of to yell at your subordinates, but in front of the victim? Crawford must be really on edge.

He crouched down in front of me again, making eye contact. “Will you allow us to install cameras inside and out of the house? Tap your phone in case he calls?”

I frowned, nibbling on my lip again. It was a nervous habit. “I guess, but I do like my privacy. You’re not going to put cameras in my bedroom or bathroom or anything, right?” He shook his head with a smile. “And tapping my phone? Does he normally call his victims?”

“We don’t know for sure,” Graham said. “There are calls made from blocked numbers to each of his seven victims, but there are so many of them that we can’t be sure it’s him. If we can tap your phone, we can hear if it’s him or not.” He obviously was going to begrudgingly follow whatever plan Crawford had in mind.

“I do have private calls that I don’t really want other people hearing,” I said, still frowning at them. Frank whined a bit to get Graham’s attention again. That dog, I swear. Normally he wants to eat anyone that’s not me. Now he’s smitten.

Crawford gestured toward the orthopedic boot I had on my left leg. “You’re slower to get away with this. We need to see what’s happening before it’s too late. What kind of private calls do you not want people hearing?”

I took a deep breath, my face flaming red, ears burning. “I do see a psychiatrist. I have an appointment with her to adjust my meds this week. I don’t really want people delving into my mental illness. That’s kind of a private thing, you know?”

If it was possible, I think Crawford blushed. A man of his character probably didn’t do that much. Will looked embarrassed and looked away, studying the pictures on my walls.

“Do you have children,” he asked, stepping closer to a cluster of family pictures.

“No, those are my sister’s kids,” I said proudly. “They’re in Washington with their father and step-mother. Her other two I haven’t seen in years.”

“You have contact with your sister’s ex-husband?” he asked, frowning and turning to me. He never looked me in the eyes, instead picking a feature on my face to look at. Autism. Definitely autism. I had a nephew with Asperger’s. I was well acquainted with it.

“Yes, I actually call him my brother and his wife my sister-in-law,” I answered, finally smiling. “They’ve been taking care of my niece and nephews since my sister cheated on my brother while he was deployed. He found out my oldest nephew was molesting his daughter and took his three children. It’s been almost ten years that he’s had them. I don’t know about my oldest or youngest nephews since my sister and I don’t talk. She thinks I’m a traitor for keeping contact. I just want to know how my niece and nephews are doing. I’d love to know about the other two, too, but she won’t talk to me.”

“What about other family?” Crawford asked. “Do you have much contact with them?”

“Well, my mother agrees with my sister, so she doesn’t talk to me much either, unless she’s asking for money,” I said with a sigh. “My father is dead, but we were close before he died. I have multitudes of aunts, uncles, and cousins, but they were alienated by my mother when I was young.”

“So no family,” murmured Crawford. “Why here? Why Baltimore?”

“My editor is closer to here than Idaho,” I answered. “She’s not in the city, but she’s closer. It makes work easier.”

“You’re a writer?” Graham asked. I nodded. “What type of books?”

“Fiction,” I said. “Mostly sci-fi fiction with some romance thrown in to spice things up. Probably nothing you would read. My main demographic is women between the ages of seventeen and late forties.”

“So you’re out here on a limb on your own and you’re ok with that?”

“Yep,” I said simply, tilting my head to the side to have some of my curls flow over my shoulder. I folded my hands in my lap, trying not to think of the throbbing ache that was my left leg. “I’ve been out on a limb all of my life. No one helped me as a kid so why would they do it now?”

Graham raised his eyebrows and sort of pouted his lips with his scruffy face. He could almost be adorable if he wasn’t so uncomfortable. The way he was with my dog was endearing enough. Seriously, what was up with my dog? Graham shook his head and frowned again.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea, Jack,” he said in a low voice. “She doesn’t know what this guy is capable of.”

“I’d like to talk about this with my colleagues if you don’t mind,” Crawford said to me, standing.   
I nodded and he and Graham disappeared through my front door. Frank seemed disappointed that his new friend had left and came to sit next to me. Frank was a good boy, just a mutt with brown, tan, and white coloring and one floppy ear. He was normally the perfect guard dog, growling at anyone new that came to my door. I’d already shut my door when the stalker approached me. Maybe he knew that I had a dog and wanted to wait until I didn’t have him to back me up.  
Knowing that he may be a serial killer definitely changed things. He wasn’t just a run of the mill stalker. He was a killer. Seven bodies? Was I to be the eighth? I rubbed Frank’s back and thought. Was it really a good idea to be the bait? I had the guts for it. This wasn’t the first time I’d run into someone who was a little more than just eager to meet me. But this was my first killer. I wasn’t so sure.

Crawford and Graham came back in and Graham had that sour, pouty face back on. Obviously, the conversation hadn’t gone the way he wanted since Crawford was smiling warmly to me. He came to sit next to me at first. That was until Frank let out a low growl. Crawford backed up slowly.

“Nice dog,” he said, stepping back a few steps.

“No, he’s not,” I responded. “He’s only nice to me. And to your Agent Graham, it seems. I’ve never seen him with another person that he didn’t want to eat on sight. Except for kids, of course.”

Graham glanced at me, well at my lips, and smiled, giving a soft laugh. “I like dogs,” he said simply.

“And dogs like you,” I said. “You must have a gentle heart. They can sense that, you know. I assume you have dogs of your own?”

Frank went to sit next to him again to get head scratches. Graham nodded. “I have several.”

“I like you more and more,” I said with a smile, tilting my head again. I think he blushed.

“Now, Miss Smith,” Crawford said, sitting down again now that Frank was indisposed of. “This is no simple thing you’re suggesting. We’ll have to keep close tabs on you. How often do you leave the house currently?”

“I don’t if I don’t have to,” I responded. “I have delivery for my groceries and prescriptions. I take Frank out into the back yard for his exorcise. Since he’s so protective, I can’t take him on walks or he’ll bite someone. We learned that the hard way in Idaho. He’s a homebody, just like me. I have a condition that keeps me at home.”

“What condition is that?” Graham asked.

“Agoraphobia,” I said. “I’m afraid to leave my house.” I was embarrassed of my mental illnesses, but there was no escaping them.

“Why were you leaving your house when you were attacked?” Crawford asked with a frown.

“I wasn’t,” I retorted. “I was taking my trash out. It was trash day.” Graham laughed shortly. “The trip to the hospital is the longest I’ve been out of my house since I moved here. Your hospitals take just as long as the ones in Idaho. I was gone for hours. Frank didn’t know what to do with himself.”

“That’s why you don’t want to leave,” Crawford came to the realization. “You’re more afraid to leave your house than you are of a serial killer.” It was an observation, so I didn’t respond, just watched him. He looked back to Graham petting my stupid dog. “Do you think Dr. Lecter could help in this situation?”

“He might,” Graham said. “He could try and convince her to come into police protection.”

“Wait a minute,” I said standing painfully. “I’m not seeing another doctor. I’ve got plenty of them and they all have differing opinions. I’m not being labeled as crazy by yet another.”

“Calm down, Miss Smith,” Crawford said, raising his hands defensively. Look how harmless I am, it said. “Dr. Lecter would only talk to you. He won’t label you; he won’t even diagnose you. You’ve already done that with other psychiatrists. He might be able to help you leave your house, however. While I am warming up to the plan of you staying here, I’d still rather you were in police custody.”

“I’m not leaving, Agent,” I warned him.

“Just talk with Dr. Lecter,” he said gently. “It won’t do any harm. We’ll have him come to your home, as long as your dog doesn’t eat him.”

“Is he just another quack?” I asked, defensive. 

Graham gave a short laugh, more of a snort, really. “No, he’s not a quack. He’s very good. He might help you.”

“Fine, I’ll meet him,” I said, crossing my arms and frowning. I didn’t like the idea, since I already had someone trying to get into my head, but they didn’t seem to be budging on the subject. “When will this little meeting take place?”

“I’ll call Dr. Lecter now and see if he’s free,” Crawford said, taking his leave into my kitchen.

I was left alone with Mr. Will Graham, dog whisperer. He didn’t seem like real FBI, he actually had feelings. Most of these men that were going through my home were all analytical and business. They wouldn’t find anything in here, and they had better put everything back into place when they were done or I’d be so pissed.

“How long have you been with the FBI?” I asked him.

He turned to me, still frowning, still petting my dog like it soothed him. “I’m a lecturer,” he said. “They bring me to cases they have a hard time figuring out and I. . . figure it out for them.”

“You’re a teacher?” I said flatly. “A teacher and you figure out what? Serial killers?”

“That’s it,” he said, smirking. “I can get into their minds, think what they’re thinking.”

“Isn’t that dangerous? Getting into sick minds and understanding them?”

“It can be,” he answered softly. His eyes went distant and haunted. I could see complex emotions flickering through them. He was somehow tainted by this ability. I frowned and felt a pang of sympathy for him.

Suddenly, Crawford came back into the room, his overcoat spilling open behind him. “Dr. Lecter will be here in about twenty minutes,” he told Graham. He turned to me and smiled. That little tuft of facial hair under his bottom lip kind of made me itchy. Just a strange place to leave facial hair. Either shave it off or get scruffy, like Agent Graham over there. “He’s a very good psychiatrist. We use him to give us profiles of our killers. He’s able to see things that others don’t.”

“Like Agent Graham?” I asked. “Does he have empathy for them? Does he know how they think?”

Crawford laughed and glanced in the very uncomfortable Will Graham’s way. “No one is like Will. His brain is entirely something different and we appreciate every bit of it.” Crawford looked back to me and smiled. “You’ll like Dr. Lecter. He’s very esteemed in his field. I think he’ll like you, too.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked, clearly confused.

“You’re polite, even to people that are out to hurt you. You’re distressed about us being here, but you’ve only lost your cool when we suggested you leave your home. You’re clearly uncomfortable with so many people being here, but you accept it and don’t get huffy about it. You’re educated and practical. You’re not rude, which is the most important thing.”

I frowned, not comfortable that he picked up so much about me while knowing me for a whole half hour. How much would this doctor pick up? I pulled my sleeves down my arms and fiddled with them, nibbling on my lip again. He was right, I hated all of these people violating my privacy, but what else could I do? They were “protecting” me, I guess. I don’t know why they had to go through my house to do it. I guess Frank was too distracted by Graham to be too worried about me. Traitor.

I sat quietly listening to Crawford try and explain to me that it would be better if I came along quietly and let the FBI “take care” of me. I explained to him that it was not going to happen, no matter how many psychiatrists they threw at me. I was not going to leave the only place I felt safe. He tried to be very compelling, and on someone less stubborn it probably would have worked. Just not with me.

Suddenly, another agent came in, telling Crawford that the doctor was here. I groaned inwardly. I didn’t want to do this. Crawford stood and excused himself, obviously wanting to talk to this Dr. Lecter before he came in to see me. It was fine. Warning him of my pigheadedness wasn’t going to change it. 

“Please, Agent Graham,” I started. “If this Dr. Lecter comes near me, Frank will get upset. Would it be possible for you to throw a ball around out back for him? He does love it and he likes you well enough. Would that be ok? Please? I don’t want the doctor getting bitten.”

“Of course,” Graham said, tapping his thigh and taking my weird, happy dog through my kitchen. I heard the back door open and close. Frank would be thrilled and this Dr. Lecter would remain in one piece. It seemed that it would help Graham feel a little better, too, and I smiled at that.

“Miss Smith,” Agent Crawford said, stepping through the door. I stood again, faltering a bit as the pressure on my ankle shot a sharp pain through me. I bent at the waist and put a hand on my ottoman that matched my chocolate brown sectional. Crawford was there, grabbing my right arm to try and steady me. My curls were everywhere and I was so embarrassed as I stood with Crawford’s help. 

“Are you alright?” an accented voice came as I righted myself, smoothing a hand down my dress. I looked up to see an aristocratic man standing before me. He had dark blond hair brushed to the side of his part. His face was strong, clean shaven, with a square jaw and chiseled cheekbones. He had a smaller nose for a man and thick lips. His eyes were a golden brown and took in everything he saw. I could almost see him filing away every detail with a single glance. He wore an impeccably tailored three piece suit the color of charcoal grey with black plaid designs. His tie was a swirl of color, blues, blacks, and grey hues running over it like a dance. I felt my throat go dry and I suddenly had no words. He was powerful in his posture. He commanded a room. Frank would definitely not like him.

“Yes, thank you,” I said finally. I extended my arm that Crawford had to shake his hand. It enveloped mine, large, strong, and soft. A gentleman’s hand. “I’m Mattea Smith, it’s a pleasure meeting you.”

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter,” he said in that thick accent. I couldn’t quite place it and normally I was so good at guessing accents. He gave me a light squeeze and smiled softly to me. “Let me help you sit.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” I sighed as he held me steady by the hand and I reached back so I wouldn’t flop onto the sectional. “I’m sorry, I’m not as steady on my feet as normal.”

“No need to apologize,” he said as he took off his black overcoat and sat on the ottoman close to me. “I understand you were a victim of attack on your own porch. A badly sprained ankle , if I’m correct.”  
“Yes, ,” I responded. His manners were exquisite and I only hoped I wouldn’t offend him with my fumbling.

“You really shouldn’t be putting any weight on it,” he said with a slightly chastising tone. “You’ll do more damage and need surgery.”

“I have a knee scooter, I’m just too stubborn to use it,” I laughed lightly, nibbling on my lower lip again.

“I see,” he smiled at me, his eyes taking note of the nervous gesture. “Jack says that you’re too stubborn to leave your home and enter into FBI protection.”

“Not necessarily too stubborn,” I corrected gently. “Too afraid is more on point. I left my house to take out the garbage and someone shoved me down the stairs. Why would I want to leave after that? I’m safe here.”

He folded his hands over his coat that was on his lap and crossed his leg. I noticed his shiny black shoes, perfectly molded to fit just him, I was sure. He tilted his head to the side and studied me for a moment.

“You are not safe here, Miss Smith,” he said steadily, watching my eyes. “This killer will wait until you are alone and come after you. Just as he has done with every other victim. Your impeccable manners may have saved you the first time as you did not offend him, only turned him down. It will not save you again.”

I blushed at the compliment and I saw him smile a bit. I fumbled for words to try and describe how I felt, frowning and searching his eyes. It was as if the answer would be there in those golden depths.

“How long ago were you diagnosed with agoraphobia?” he asked. “It’s an anxiety disorder that causes great distress over even the thought of leaving what is considered safe. You’re distressed at this thought. You’re consumed by it.”

“Y-yes,” I stuttered. “I was diagnosed a few years ago, when I lived in Idaho. I’d had my first run-in with a stalker and he’d tried to rape me while I was leaving to meet friends for dinner. I haven’t felt safe enough to leave after that.”

“You’re no stranger to assault,” Dr. Lecter said. “Have you ever tried exposure therapy?”

“Therapy and I don’t agree,” I said, wincing as it sounded rude to me. “I’ve tried it many times over my lifetime and it always ended the same way. I was just stuck at the beginning.”

“You haven’t met the right therapist,” Dr. Lecter smiled. He sat straight up, not slouching in any way. He had to be from money. “Do you have a therapist here?”  
I shook my head, curls falling around my shoulders. “I have a psychiatrist that prescribes me my meds, but that’s about it. She’s suggested therapy, as well, given my history, but I turn her down each time.”

“You’re on medication?”

“Yes, I’m on quite a few, unfortunately,” I said shyly, very uncomfortable with this conversation. I didn’t want everyone knowing what kind of crazy I was.

“May I ask what medications you’re on?” He was polite about it so I couldn’t say no, but I really wanted to.

“I have a list in my wallet,” I said, trying to stand again. He put his hand on mine, keeping me in my place.

“Just tell Jack where it is and he’ll retrieve it,” he said, his hand warm against my skin. I told Crawford where my purse was and one of the other agents held it up, hopefully without going through it first. Dr. Lecter noticed my frown. “I’m sorry that your privacy has been so rudely violated. It must trigger you that much more to not leave.”  
Crawford brought me my bag, a simple black bag that could go with anything professional or otherwise. I peeked in and grabbed my wallet. It was a man’s wallet, but that was all I needed. My small fingers dug into one of the pockets and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. I bit my lip, hesitating before I handed it over to the doctor. He opened it, his eyebrows raising slightly at the length of it.

“You take a few antipsychotics as well as an anti-epileptic,” he murmured. “I’m assuming bipolar depression, correct?” I nodded, worrying at my lip and frowning, knowing all the things that could be going through his mind. “You take a controlled substance, clonazepam, for anxiety. You must be careful with benzos.”

“I try not to take them as much as possible,” I defended myself almost desperately. “I usually only take one a day, to calm my mind enough to sleep.”

He made direct eye contact with me, making me feel like I was the only person in the room. “You don’t need to defend yourself from me. I understand.” I nodded, dropping my gaze to my hands in my lap. “Your bipolar must be severe at the strengths of these medications. Tell me, do you feel more in control of your life now that you’re medicated?”

I looked back up, finding him studying my face. I frowned, remembering what it was like before I was diagnosed and felt so wild. “I spent all of my adolescence and a good amount of my adulthood being miss diagnosed and given wrong medications. Most would send me into mania and cause me not to sleep for days on end. I felt crazy most of my life. It’s nice now that my thoughts aren’t as chaotic.”

Dr. Lecter nodded, his eyes moving over me quickly and he pursed his lips together. “You know that it’s dangerous to be here by yourself,” he said.

“Oh, I’m not by myself,” I said with a soft smile. “I have a dog, Frank. He’s out back playing with Agent Graham. He’s my protector.”

“Ah, Will has found a new friend,” Dr. Lecter said with a genuine smile that even warmed his eyes. “A dog can only offer so much protection. You wouldn’t want him hurt, would you?”

My breath caught in my throat and suddenly, my anxiety shot through me, making my heart pound, the back of my neck and ears burning, and my throat going dry. I hadn’t even thought of Frank getting hurt. My breath quickened and I frowned, overwhelmed by my anxiety and emotion. Suddenly, Dr. Lecter’s hand was on mine again, solid and strong, warming my suddenly cold and clammy skin.

“I’m sorry, Miss Smith, I didn’t mean to alarm you,” he said. “Take deep breaths. Ground yourself. Feel my hand, know you’re safe. Frank is safe. Deep breaths.” His accent thickened that much more as he tried to calm me. I felt tears sting at my eyes at the indignity of losing my cool in front of him.

I fought for my composure, my fingers of my other hand reaching up to touch his. His hands were so big compared to mine. He let me touch his fingers and I closed my eyes, mostly so he wouldn’t see the tears there. I took shuddering breaths, trying to calm them. I heard my heart in my ears, pounding away with a rapid rhythm. He continued to use his even, gentle voice to try and distract me. I heard him ask Crawford if they knew where my meds were. Crawford said no, thank God.

“I’m fine,” I gasped out, looking at Dr. Lecter again. “I’m ok, I just need a minute.”

“Take your time,” he responded, tightening his grip slightly. I clung to that feeling, his soft touch over my small hands, my fingers reaching up to close slightly around his. “Just breathe. Everything is ok, you’re safe.”

After a few minutes of just breathing, I sighed. I felt the anxiety start to recede into the back of my mind. My breaths didn’t shudder, my heart didn’t pound, my neck and ears didn’t burn. I was back in my own skin, out of my thoughts, grounded.

“Thank you, doctor,” I said softly. “You helped greatly.” I took my hands back from his and straightened myself, rolling my shoulders back. “I’m sorry for falling apart.”

“No need to apologize,” Crawford said gently. He had seated himself next to me and put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I understand what you mean by anxiety, doctor. This would be crippling.”

“Oh, it is,” Dr. Lecter responded, tilting his head again at me and clearing his throat. “She did admirably, however. You’ve dealt with anxiety quite a bit, haven’t you?” When I nodded he smiled again.

“Jack, if I may have a few minutes alone with you,” Dr. Lecter said standing. I can only imagine that he thought it would be rude to talk about me as if I weren’t there. He put his coat back on over the charcoal suit and stepped out of my front door.

I chased away the last of the fear, the terror of losing my dog. I couldn’t put him in danger like that. I just couldn’t. It was selfish of me. It was horrible of me. How could I be a good dog mom if I put him in danger to save myself?

I looked back to my kitchen, as if I could see Graham playing fetch with my beloved pooch through the wall. I could hear him give an excited bark. He was fine and having fun. I shouldn’t worry about him. I seriously doubted that Graham would let any harm come to him.

I was still looking through my wall distantly, thinking of how selfish I had been when Dr. Lecter and Crawford came back through my door. They didn’t sit but came close enough that I had to strain to look up at them.

“Dr. Lecter would like to extend an invitation to his home,” Crawford said, looking over to the other man. Both were smiling, as if this were a great compromise.

“But I can’t take Frank with me if I leave,” I said, a thread of that fear coming back. “I’m sorry, Dr. Lecter, but he doesn’t have very good manners with other people. He’s very protective, even when he doesn’t need to be.”

“Not a problem,” Dr. Lecter said. “I’m sure our Will would be willing to take him in while we wait for this situation to resolve itself. My home is rather large and you wouldn’t be any kind of inconvenience. It might actually be nice to have some company for a little while. Especially one so polite.”

I frowned. I really didn’t want to leave my home. Biting my lip, I looked back at my kitchen, then back at the gentlemen in front of me. “I really don’t want to leave my home,” I said softly. “You can’t do what you said earlier? Install cameras and tap my phone?”

Crawford looked at Dr. Lecter. It was a knowing look. Then he crouched down next to me so I didn’t have to strain. “We are still intending on doing that, but I’d rather you be in a safe, controlled environment with Dr. Lecter,” he said gently. “We would post agents outside his home and I trust Dr. Lecter to keep you safe.”

I sighed, defeated. I frowned down into my lap, tugging at my sleeves. I nodded slowly, then looked up to Dr. Lecter’s level gaze. “I thank you for your invitation,” I said evenly. “It’s a very generous offer and I will take it. I’ll need to pack some things. Will Agent Graham take my dog?”

“I’m sure he will,” Dr. Lecter said gently. He seemed pleased that I agreed. His head shot up, looking around. “Where is your scooter? I’ll help you pack.”

It was about an hour later. I’d had my tearful goodbye to Frank and Agent Graham promised he’d take good care of him. Dr. Lecter and Agent Crawford waited patiently for me to pack some clothes, toiletries, and shyly, my medications. I packed light, being reassured that if it took longer, someone would bring me more clothes. Dr. Lecter insisted that I use my stupid scooter wherever I went. When we loaded into his car, my scooter and bags in his trunk, he asked me if I had eaten already.

“Um,” I started, feeling squishy about telling him this part. “I don’t really eat much. Usually only once a day, if that.”

“You are on the thin side,” he acknowledged, his eyes on the road. “I love to cook. After I stopped practicing medicine, I threw all my passion into cooking. I look forward to putting some weight on you.”

I blushed and looked down to my lap, my hands folded and sighed. This was going to be weird. I’d never lived with anyone, I’d been alone since I broke free from my mother at eighteen, and while this was only just a visit, it would still be strange. It was an invasion of privacy not only for me, but for Dr. Lecter, too. He seemed so willing to do it, though. I didn’t understand.

“May I ask you something?” I said when I got up the nerve. 

He glanced at me and smiled. “Anything.”

“Why are you allowing me into your home?” I asked. “You know I’m a heavily medicated insane person. That’s about all you know of me. I could be a complete slob or gassy or something.”

He laughed lightly. “You forget,” he answered, his accent thick. “I’ve seen your home. You didn’t anticipate the FBI invading it and it’s very clean and orderly. Everything was in its place. I doubt you would be rude enough to leave a mess in my home. As for being gassy,” he paused, laughing to himself, “I’m sure you’ll be discreet about it. You are heavily medicated, but you are far from insane. You do your best to look after yourself, even if you are a bit stubborn about it. I hope you’ll allow me to look after you as best I can.”

“I brought my work with me,” I said with a sigh, knowing my laptop was in the trunk with the rest of my things. “I’ll stay out of your way most of the day. If you’ll just show me where the bathroom and my room will be, I promise to be as discreet a house guest as possible.”

“I work from home, as well,” he said, getting a bit more serious. “I see patients out of the downstairs offices. I’d appreciate the consideration on the part of my patients. I’m sure you understand the process and the taboo that comes from seeing a psychiatrist.”

“Please don’t worry, Doctor,” I responded. “I won’t leave my room unless you ask it. I’m sure I’ll be comfortable enough.”

He smiled then, as if reassured. I was glad to see the smile. “I have no fear that you will invade my privacy, Miss Smith, as you value it so highly yourself. We will mutually coexist just fine through this troubling time.”

“Please, Dr. Lecter, call me Mattea. It seems so formal for you to be letting me into your home and still addressing me like that.”

“Mattea,” he murmured, as if to himself. It rolled off his tongue like he’d savored it before saying it. “I’ve never heard of it before. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m out of my home and not having a complete breakdown,” I laughed uneasily. “I’d say that’s a victory in and of itself.”

He looked at me again, this time for longer, studying me. “I’d have to agree.”

We rode the rest of the way in silence. He would occasionally glance at me as if in passing. Just checking that I was still there. He stopped in front of an enormous house, three floors, with huge windows all around it. It was imposing, almost frightening.

“We’re here,” he said, sliding the car into park and turning off the engine. “I’ll help you get inside and park the car after you’re settled. There will be stairs to the bedrooms, but I’ll help you up them.”

He slid out of his seat and shut the door behind him. I couldn't stop looking at the grandeur of his home. Just enormous. He quickly came around to my side and opened the door. He offered me his hand and I took it gratefully. It was cold in the Baltimore autumn. I shivered under the chill that flowed around me. It was a struggle for me to get out of the car with my left leg covered by this huge boot. Dr. Lecter had to all but lift me out of the car. Once out, I stood for a few minutes, catching my composure. I looked to his front door and saw only two steps up. I took a grateful breath and started hobbling painfully over to the front door while he was busy retrieving things from the trunk of his car.

“No, Mattea,” he called far too late. I was already there before he could get the knee scooter out. “You are a terrible patient,” he censured with a tisk. “Please wait there. I’ll get the rest of your bags.” He brought over the scooter and tapped the handle, basically telling me to rest my damn knee on it or he’d tell. I begrudgingly put my knee on the scooter and waited for him, the cold nipping at my bare legs.

“You know, the scooter won’t go up stairs,” I said when he put the bags down at the door to unlock it.

He grinned back at me. “I have a plan,” he said, pushing the door open. He turned and offered me his arm to lean on. “Do not put that boot on the ground for anything. No weight on it, understand?” 

I nodded and put my weight on him, hopping up the steps with him to guide me. It was very unladylike. I was mortified. This was his plan. He put the scooter inside the door, a grand foyer with high ceilings and a checkered black and white floor. There was a stairway to the left of the door and a pleasant sitting room to the right. I scooted over to the stairway, being tired and ready for bed. He brought in all the bags and set them just inside the door, which he shut tightly and locked behind him. It was a finality that sent thrills through me.

“Ok, I hopped up the front steps, will I hop up the rest?” I asked with a laugh. He grinned at me again and moved closer, not slowing down as he reached me. Suddenly, I was swept off my feet and in his arms.

“I thought I’d carry you up,” he said smiling down at me in his charming way.

“Doctor, I’m a big girl,” I said breathlessly as he seemed to glide up the stairs. There were a lot of them. “I can walk on my own.”

“You’re a slight woman,” he corrected as he reached the top and set me down to lean against the rail. “You’re thin and lean and easy to lift. It was my pleasure to help you up.”

“Are you going to carry me to my room, too?” I asked with a chuckle. I hadn’t been picked up like that ever. It was almost exhilarating. I leaned hard against the railing that wrapped around the top of the stairs and down the hall.

“Only if you ask me to,” he replied succinctly while he went down and collected my scooter. “While it would be a pleasure, I think you can manage with this. Use it.” He said the last in a clipped tone that barred any rebuttal. I placed my knee on the padding shyly. He went down for the bags, only three of them, the largest being a black suitcase with wheels. One was my computer bag and the other had my toiletries and meds in it. I was embarrassed by how big it was, but it contained my bulky hairdryer in it, too.

“Please, follow me,” he said when he reached the top of the stairs. He wasn’t even out of breath after carrying me, then my bags upstairs. He must be very fit under that suit, I thought to myself. He led me down to the end of the hall. “These are the bedrooms. There are bathrooms en suite. Mine is here, just across the hall,” he said pointing. With two fingers, he opened up the door that must lead to the room I would be using.

It was lavish. He’d flicked on the light just after entering the room. It cast a bright gleam against the bedframe. That had to be chestnut. The carpet was a thick grey with a white rug at the base of a king-sized bed. The blankets and sheets looked lush and soft. There was a small bench at the base of the bed, the same shade as the blankets, a deep royal blue. There was a dresser of rich matching chestnut to the left of the door beside a large window that showed out to the back-yard area. A writing desk, which gave me thrills, was on the opposite wall, a little lamp and a leather placemat. It was perfect for me to write on. I was excited to be able to work there. There was a door to its left and after Dr. Lecter placed my bags beside the bench, he went to turn on the light.

“Here is your bathroom,” he said, opening the door. I pushed myself over to peer in. There was a large clawfoot bathtub in the center, a large shower along the right wall, and a vanity and toilet on the left. It was huge, just like the rest of the place. Beautifully decorated with blue hues and black undertones.

“If you need anything, please just let me know,” he said, smiling at my awe. “In the meantime, I’m assuming you haven’t eaten tonight.”

“Oh, no, I guess I haven’t had the time,” I said shyly. I pushed myself to the bed and sat down gratefully. “I can just eat tomorrow, it’s really nothing new.”

“I insist,” he said, his face serious. “You need to take your antidepressants with food or they won’t work. I’ll warm something up. It won’t take but a moment.”

“Please, Doctor,” I started.

“No, Mattea,” he interrupted. “You will eat tonight. And if I’m to call you Mattea, please call me Hannibal. You’re a guest in my home. It would be rude if I insisted on such formal labels.” I nodded silently, taking my coat off. He watched me, standing next to the bathroom, as if watching to see if I put any weight on my sprained ankle. “I’ll make something up quickly, then come to collect you. Make yourself at home.”

He left me then, almost bowing before he closed my door. I was alone in one of the most lavish rooms I’d ever been in. It was like a five-star hotel. I looked around, seeing art decorating the walls. I used the scooter to go and close the curtains, suddenly feeling very exposed. This was a new environment and my anxiety was definitely there, but it was hard not to feel comfortable here. He certainly was a gracious host and I blushed a bit at the thought of him “collecting me”. I wondered if that meant he would carry me down the stairs again. I went over to the writing desk, with its embroidered and padded chair, a deep shade of blue to match the room. I pulled out the chair and sat in it, picturing my computer on the place setting. I could easily work here. My editor would be pleased.

I then scooted into the bathroom to the vanity. I looked into the mirror over the sink and was shocked at how pale I looked. My skin was always pale, but I looked like porcelain or something. My make-up was a bit smudged after crying when I said goodbye to Frank. I sighed and used some water to clean up the streaks. I couldn’t look a mess over dinner. That would be rude. My curls were a wild mass behind me and around my face. There really was no taming them. I could put them back into a bun, but there would be strands that would escape around my face and tickle my neck. I decided that was better than having me look like a feral woman.

Back in the bedroom, I looked at my suitcase and wondered if it would be presumptuous to unpack. The dresser looked inviting enough and more than enough room to fit my clothes. I just didn’t know how long I’d be here. I scooted over to it, opening the drawers. They were deep and easy to slide. I frowned. Would it be ruder not to? I just wasn’t sure so I decided I’d keep my things in the case for now.

It wasn’t long until there was a knock at my door. I called for him to enter and the door swung open. He’d lost the jacket, waistcoat, and tie, his slacks and white shirt covering his lean frame. His sleeves were rolled up to show his forearms. They were muscular, but not overly so. He sort of took my breath away looking so relaxed.  
“Dinner is served,” he said with a charming smile.

“Thank you,” I said, indelicately scooting my way over to the door. I felt like such a chump rolling around in this stupid cart. My black pumps all but dragged over the lush carpeting and I felt like I was disrespecting his house doing it. “Please, let me just walk. I feel so brutish rolling around in this thing.”

“Nonsense,” he said, still smiling as we went down the hall together. He clasped his arms behind his back in a very gentlemanly way. “You’re positively graceful, I assure you.”  
I laughed at the lie, coming to a stop at the top of the stairs. “How do we do this?” I asked, eyeing the stairs.

“Like this,” he said, sweeping me up again. This time, I made a little yelp of surprise and he started descending the stairs elegantly. I felt so heavy in his arms and I wrapped my right arm around his shoulders to try and lift my weight off his arms. He wasn’t straining in any way, though I knew the boot would put him off balance. It weighed a good seven to ten pounds and was just enormous. He placed me down gently at the foot of the stairs, wagging a finger at me when I put my boot down. “No wandering off,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

I looked around the foyer while he went to retrieve my scooter. It really was brilliantly classy. Paintings and prints of ancient Roman art hanging around the walls. I could smell something delicious coming from deeper in the house and peeked around the staircase. It was so tasteful I felt out of place. Yes, I cleaned up well, but this was far too classy for me.

“Here we go,” Hannibal said as he put my scooter down next to me. “Are you ready to eat?” He was smiling at me simply, no expectation, no question, no judgement. Just a smile.

“I’d be happy to, thank you,” I said as I hopped back on the stupid scooter. He led me back to the back of the house. It was a long, cobalt blue room with a long black table and eight chairs in the middle. There were fresh flowers in the center, with candles lit on each end. It was just like the rest of the house: elegant and refined.

“Please, take a seat,” he motioned to the opposite end where two place settings were laid out. All fine china with polished silverware. I sat on the opposite chair from the entryway to what had to be the kitchen, kicking the scooter as far away as I could. Damn thing, I thought. He disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve what must be amazing food.

I looked around, seeing mirrors and art on the walls. The mirrors gave the room the illusion of being bigger. It felt exquisite and refined. The table setting was perfect, like fine dining. I knew the food would match it.

He emerged with two plates in his hands. “Chicken dijon with tangy crème fraîche,” he said as he put the plate in front of me. It smelled amazing.

“This is beautiful, Hannibal,” I said, seeing the chicken browned and crispy. I didn’t know what the rest of it was, but it smelled fabulous so I was sure it tasted the same.

He poured me a white wine with almost a flourish. He obviously loved his cooking, just like he said he did. “I’m glad to have pleased you,” he said as he sat across from me. He took up his wine glass and smelled it, savoring the scent before taking a sip. He smiled again at me almost secretively. “Maybe I can convince you that food is an experience, not just something you have to do to survive.”

“If you continue to cook like this for me, you may just do that.” I smiled warmly back at him and waited for him to take the first bite. My first meal with Dr. Hannibal Lecter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mattea has her first night in the home of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. She begins to open up to him about her history, laying the foundation of what's to come.

Dinner passed by with pleasant conversation. He talked to me about his work with the FBI, reassured me that I would be safe in his home and that I wouldn’t have to leave the house until all of it was over. I talked to him about my work with writing, blushing a bit, knowing it was subpar with what he found entertaining, surely. He asked me questions about my family and childhood. I dodged most of the questions but had to admit to the fact that my family was far from polite.

“It impresses me that you’re as polite as you are if you grew up in such conditions,” he said after another sip of wine. “You must have picked up your conduct somewhere else.”

“I learned to be polite by doing exactly the opposite of my family,” I said with a laugh. “That’s how I’ve managed to get out of the poverty that has plagued my family since before I was born. I kept my nose to the grindstone and studied hard. I knew I didn’t want to be like my mother and sister.”

“Are they very awful?” he asked, watching me intently. It was almost unnerving.

“Well, my mother was a biker,” I said after a sigh. “You know the type. From the seventies and eighties. The kind that have tattoos everywhere, drink and smoke, pass around hard drugs like they’re nothing? Getting into fights over petty things. Just rough around the edges, you might say. My sister is like my mother, only without the bikes. She curses a lot more, too. Swears that she’s some ‘high priestess’ of the Wiccan religion.” I laughed sadly. This was my truth, my roots, my beginning. It was my reality growing up. And it got so much darker from there. I tugged at my sleeves again, making sure they didn’t ride up.

“Yet here you are,” Hannibal said, gesturing to me with one hand, “courteous and lovely. You wouldn’t believe that you grew up so roughly. It does go with the nature vs. nurture argument. You were nurtured to be crass and inelegant, yet you have risen above it and made yourself into an enjoyable young woman. It must be in your nature to be so.”

“Thank you,” I said, still unsure of how to accept a compliment. I blushed a fiery red and took a sip of my wine. I’d had a glass and a half and he seemed just fine with keeping my glass full. I honestly felt a bit dizzy, like the room had stood up and started dancing with me in it. I didn’t drink much and it showed.

“You’ve had too much wine,” he observed. He watched me and smiled as I blushed again. “I’m afraid I may set you on fire with those blushes.” He only made me blush harder.  
Our meal had been done for well over a half hour, yet we stayed talking. I guess it was his profession to listen and he was very good at it. He filled my glass twice more before he stood to take our plates into the kitchen. 

“Please let me help you clean up. The cook shouldn’t clean,” I said as I stood. The minute I was on my feet, the room shifted and I almost tipped over. Suddenly, Hannibal was beside me, holding me up.

“You’re in no condition to be cleaning,” he all but whispered into my ear, his accent thick and warm. “Sit, please. I’ll just get the dishes in the sink and then I’ll take you upstairs.”  
I sat glumly, eyeing him as he left the spinning room. I really shouldn’t have drunk that much. What must he think of me? I was acting like a lush! It had to be horribly impolite. I was gloomy, thinking about how badly I must be acting when he came back into the room.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, stopping by the chair to my left at the head of the table. He stood straight and tall, I had to look up to see him. He spun just like everything else.

“You must think awfully of me,” I said with a slight slur.

“Why ever would you think that?” he said, frowning at me.

“Here I am, my first night with you, and I’m drunk,” I said, looking down into my lap and letting my posture slip. It was as if I could see my failure through my clothes.

He knelt beside me, reached up and grabbed my chin lightly to have me look at him. “I wanted you to relax,” he said, “not whip yourself with imagined condemnation. I think very highly of you and all you have achieved. If I thought badly of you, trust me, dinner would have gone a very different way.” He stood and offered a hand. “Let’s get you upstairs,” he said warmly.

I stood up and took his hand, falling slightly into him and letting out a little giggle. “Sorry,” I said as I righted myself. 

“This won't do at all,” he said with a tisk. Then he grabbed me and pulled me into his arms. Swooping me into his arms all night long, I guess, I thought. “I’ll just take you upstairs and put you to bed. I don’t think you’d do well trying to maneuver that scooter around the house. You may knock something over and you’ll never get over it.” He winked at me and started to move through the house with his easy grace. I leaned into him, resting my spinning head on his shoulder and sighed. I closed my eyes, giving into the reeling of my own mind. I felt him start up on the stairs and felt the urge to shimmy out of his grasp. I had a real fear of heights and the fact that I wasn’t in control of being high made me that much more nervous.

“Hush, Mattea,” Hannibal whispered into my ear. “I won’t let you fall. Just relax. We’re almost there.” He settled me in his arms again and turned the corner after the stairs. I knew I was almost to my room. “Will you need any assistance?” he asked as he pushed open the door. He brought me to the bench at the foot of the bed and set me down.

“I’ll be fine,” I said gratefully. “I may just run to the bathroom and get some water for my meds.”

“Allow me,” he retorted with a smile. “You don’t need anything else out of here, do you?”

“I need to brush my teeth and maybe use the bathroom,” I said meekly.

“Of course,” he said, sounding almost ashamed for not thinking of it. “Your cart isn’t up here, would you like me to bring you into the bathroom?"

“Can’t I just hobble over?” I asked, almost whining. Hannibal smirked, standing there with his hands in the pocket of his slacks. He shook his head slowly. “Not even a little bit?”

“Let’s make a compromise,” he said, coming to sit next to me. “I will take you to the bathroom, you can hobble around inside the bathroom in private, then you will open the door and I will take you back to the bed. If you fall, you’re not allowed to hobble anymore.”

I frowned, looking down into my lap. “But I’m dizzy,” I said, again in almost a whine. Ok, no more wine for me. “The room keeps spinning.”

“Just don’t close your eyes,” he whispered to me. I took a deep breath and nodded in agreement. He took that as agreement to the plan so he stood, grabbed my arm and put it as close to around his shoulders as he could. “You’re so small. I think I’ll call you mažas.”

“What’s that?” I asked after giving a squeak while he picked me up.

“It means ‘small’ in my native language,” he said while carrying me to the open door of the bathroom. “You are very small, like a little mouse.”

“Yeah, my dad was only five feet tall,” I sighed as he put me down at the door. “At least I was taller than him, right?” I gave a little laugh, then shyly stepped inside. “I won’t be long.”

I shut the door behind me after he gave me a little nod and moved back to the bench. I’d been hobbling around my house for days, just not drunk. I had to be drunk. Man, my tolerance sucked. I used the toilet and washed my hands and face at the sink, having my toiletries bag right on the vanity. I wiped the makeup from my face and moisturized. Then I brushed my teeth and pulled my long curls up on top of my head again, securing it with a large elastic, making a messy bun with lose curls everywhere. I looked in the mirror and I looked horrible. It had been a long day. I got a glass of water and came back to the door, opening it up.

Hannibal was at his place on the bench, sitting up straight and dignified, watching his hands. His head came up, that golden brown hair falling over his brow almost expertly. He smiled at me. “All done?” I nodded. “And not a single fall. Very good. You’ve been doing this for a while.”

I smiled guiltily. First, he came to retrieve the glass of water, then he came to retrieve me after he placed it on the nightstand. As I slipped into his arms, I sighed. He must really think I’m awful. He placed me down on the bed brought my suitcase to me. I swayed on my feet and he grabbed me quickly.

“Let’s sit you down before you fall down,” he said with a frown. 

“Too much wine,” I said with a nervous laugh. He made a sound, but I wasn’t sure if it was in agreement or judgement. Now that I didn’t have my make-up on, I must look horrible.

“Tomorrow we will see about getting you something easier than a cart,” he told me when he stood up and smoothed his slightly rumpled shirt over his chest. “For now, go to sleep. You’ve had a very long day.”

“Dr. Lecter,” I started.

“No, Hannibal,” he corrected.

“Hannibal,” I said smiling, “thank you for opening your home to me and taking such care of me. I do genuinely appreciate it.”

His smile widened and he crouched down in front of me, putting his hand on the bench to steady himself. “It’s my pleasure to have such pleasing company. You are most welcome. I have a feeling that this will go well for both of us, however long it takes to catch your admiring serial killer.”

He stood then and walked to the door, turning at the threshold and giving me a sly wink before closing the door behind him. I watched the door after he left, seeing it spin before my eyes. I shook my head to get it to stop the whirling and stood. My hands went to the tie at my waist, pulling the fabric to loosen the dress around me. There was another tie Inside the dress on the other side. A quick pull and I was down to my camisole, bra and panties. I kicked off my one pump and sat back down on the bench. I sighed with a huff. It had been a long day. I guess getting me a little drunk may have been a good thing to get me to relax. I quickly undid and took off my bra around the soft camisole and laid it on the bench. I was free. I took a deep breath and sighed again, letting my posture slouch in relief. It would be really nice when I took off the damn boot.

I “hobbled” up to the top of the bed, intending to sleep in my camisole and panties. I sat as delicately as I could and hefted the boot on my left leg up onto the mattress. I spun the valve, letting the air out before unstrapping myself. I sighed as the wrap came into view and lifted my leg out of the boot. I gently placed the boot beside the bed and flexed my toes a bit. It hurt, but I knew if I didn’t stretch the tendons on the top of my foot that physical therapy would be horrible. I stood and pulled the lush blue blankets down. Soft black sheets waited for me. I sighed when I sat down and settled myself in. My meds had been placed on the nightstand along with the water and I was surprised that he’d gotten them all, save one. I’d hidden it, so I wasn’t surprised. He must have a fantastic memory.

After taking my meds, I settled in. It normally took about a half hour for the anti-anxieties and the sleeping pills to kick in. I wasn’t sure how the alcohol I’d consumed would impact it. I rested my head against fluffy pillows and got comfortable. Closing my eyes, I felt the world shifting, twisting and turning behind the blackness that was my vision. It almost made me seasick. Opening them, I reached over and shut off the light on the nightstand, plunging the room into darkness. The heavy drapes on the window shut out all the light from the street. It was totally dark and my anxiety rose. Quickly, I turned the light back on. Total darkness was not something I was comfortable with. I didn’t expect Hannibal to realize nor understand. He had no idea about my history. I guess I was sleeping with the light on.

I turned with my back to the light and grabbed another pillow, pulling it lengthwise against my chest. I cuddled with it under the heavy blankets and allowed myself to be pulled into the spinning darkness that was my brain. It didn’t take long before I was asleep and dreaming.

Same old dream. Visions of bathrooms in the night, light around a silhouette in the doorway, fear, pain. I fought to get away, fought to run, but I was too small. I couldn’t get away from him.

Then there were hands on my shoulders, shaking me. I screamed and jerked away, sitting up in bed. Hannibal was there in a long robe, frowning at me, watching me as I tried to calm my breaths and pull the strands of curls from my eyes. I suddenly remembered that I wasn’t wearing a bra and jerked the blankets up over my chest.

“Hannibal!” I gasped out. My heart was still racing.

“You were screaming,” he said, turning his head and frowning. “What scared you enough to scream like that?”

“I-it was a n-nightmare,” I stuttered out, gasping and gulping in breaths. “I-I’m sorry to have woken you. Please, I’m fine. Go back to bed.”

“You’re terrified,” he said, shaking his head. He sat on the edge of the bed. “Tell me what the nightmare was about. It isn’t good to let these things fester.”

Little did he know, that particular wound had been festering for almost thirty years. I closed my eyes and took a steading breath. I shook my head as if to get rid of the images still haunting my brain. When I opened them, I found Hannibal studying me. My right hand kept the blankets around my chest, still striving for modesty, my left tucking hair behind my ear.

“Please, Hannibal,” I said softly. “I don’t want to talk about it tonight. That particular boogie man needs to stay away tonight. Please?”

He made a sound in his throat, his frown deepening. “The light was still on,” he observed. “Did you fall asleep before you turned it off?”

“N-no, I left it on,” I admitted. “Please leave it on. I must apologize, but I’m . . . afraid of the dark.”

I couldn’t look at him. My eyes went down to the blanket and I took a steadying breath, waiting for the judgement.

“It’s alright,” he told me, reaching over to put a finger under my chin, guiding me to look back at him. “You seem to have your reasons. Would it be better if I opened the drapes a bit? Let some of the streetlight in?” I frowned, I guess it couldn’t hurt. I nodded to him and he gave me a smile, standing to do just that. “How much light do you need? Will this be enough?”

“Only one way to find out,” I said softly and leaned over and shut off the light, plunging the room into shadow. There was a sliver of light from the window, silhouetting Hannibal in a yellow light. I took a shaky breath. “A bit more, please,” I breathed. He pulled the drapes a little further. The yellow light spilled in brighter. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked as he came back to the side of the bed.

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” I answered, still shaking. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you. I didn’t mean to. Thank you for understanding.”

“You’ll have to talk to me about this eventually,” he warned. “I’m a psychiatrist. It’s what I do. I won’t let it go.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” I mumbled. I twisted my face into a grimace. “I’ve never really talked about it with anyone.”

“And that is part of the problem,” he said, sitting on the bed. Somehow, the conversation seemed more intimate in the dark. “You have locked away something dark. You need to give it light, to process it.”

“I’m afraid to,” I admitted. I couldn’t look at his face. I was ashamed. I felt guilty for waking him up.

“It is hard to give light to the darkness in one’s own soul,” Hannibal said, shifting closer to me to put his hand on mine. “But sometimes the best thing we can do is brave the fear and push through it.” He watched me for a moment, I could feel his eyes on me. “I could stay until you fall asleep, if you’d like.”

I looked at him then, his face carved in yellow light. I studied him, looked over his chiseled cheekbones, strong jaw, and thick lips. Could I let him stay or would that just make sleeping more difficult? I’d never had anyone stay with me when I slept since I reached adulthood.

“I think I’ll be ok, but thank you,” I responded. I could tell he smiled, giving me a little bow and heading for the doorway.

He turned and looked back at me. “Sleep well, Mattea,” he said. “No more nightmares.”

I smiled. “I’ll do my best.”

He left me again, the door clicking shut with such finality behind him. I took a deep breath and looked around. I could see everything in shadow. It was almost eerie. I could see it, though, and that’s what mattered. I settled back down into the pillows, still clutching the blankets to my chest. I could do this; I could go back to sleep. My dog wasn’t there, though, to comfort me and sleep next to me on the bed. A part of me kicked myself for not letting Hannibal stay. He was an oddly comforting presence. Maybe my heart rate would have stilled with him in the room.

I took some deep and steadying breaths. I could do this. I rolled back over onto my right side, cuddling the pillow that was now slightly damp against my chest. I flipped it over and pulled it close. I pulled the blanket over my shoulder, tucking it in under my chin. I had no idea what time it was. Obviously, it was late enough to wake Hannibal. Under normal circumstances, I’d get up and do some work until I felt tired again. I had a feeling that if he heard me moving around in here, he’d come back with more questions. Instead, I snuggled down into the blankets and closed my eyes. The spinning was gone, just me in the dark. I took slow, even breaths and allowed my body to relax bit by bit. I felt sleep tugging at me, pulling me down into its depths. I opened my eyes one last time to make sure no one was there, then allowed sleep to enfold me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mattea's first morning with Hannibal. They have frank conversations and good food. "Beauty."

It seemed like it was minutes and my phone alarm was going off. I jolted awake, not sure where the offending sound came from. I realized it was in my coat on the bench at the base of the bed. I crawled down the bed and searched my pockets. I didn’t want to wake Hannibal at this awful hour. I woke up at seven in the morning every morning so I could get as much work done as I could. I did have a deadline to make, after all. I found my phone after a few seconds that felt like minutes and silenced it. I sighed and sat back, instantly regretting it as I sat on my messed up ankle. I made a sharp sound and shifted to the right, sitting on my butt instead. I looked around at the dimly lit bedroom. The sun hadn’t come up all the way yet, barely making it over the horizon to shed new light on the world around it. I felt a chill and shivered. I don’t know why I felt so unnerved, but I did. Maybe it was the lingering of the nightmare from last night.

With a sigh, I crawled to the side of the bed. I bypassed the boot, instead opting to shuffle to the bathroom on my own. It hurt, God it hurt, but I hated the boot. I used the toilet and brushed my teeth, looking in the mirror at my mess of curls. How long would it take to have a shower, I wondered. Couldn’t be that long. I was absolutely certain that Hannibal would still be in bed, so he couldn’t catch me without my boot. I nodded to myself, making the decision to shower and freshen myself up before he saw me again. I sat on the seat inside the shower and unwrapped my ankle, throwing the wrap into the room.

The shower was warm. I felt it run over my body as I stood mostly on my right foot to avoid putting weight on my ankle. It washed the sweat from the nightmare away, almost erasing it from my memory as I lathered my body up. I washed my face with my shower glove, then the rest of me, running over my skin with an abrasive scratch. I washed my hair slowly. It had a tendency to knot up so I would run my fingers through it with conditioner soaking into it. 

Honestly, though I loved my showers, it only took me about fifteen minutes to finish. Hannibal had left fluffy white towels on the rack and I wrapped one around my hair, the other around my slim body. They were soft and smelled clean. I took a moment to appreciate their texture against my wet skin.

I limped to the mirror, again resting most of my weight on my right foot. The pain was shooting up my leg. I glanced down at it and saw that it was an angry purple with blood pooling inside the skin. Today was going to be a painful day. I looked in the mirror after wiping it with my hand. My hair products were in my toiletries bag, along with my hair dryer. It had a diffuser on the end to gently blow dry the curls into a mass instead of frizz. That was always the first step. Get the hair under control, then make-up. I didn’t wear much of it, just focusing on my eyes in simple products. The black eyeliner made my eyes look more pronounced. It drew attention away from my tiny nose and thick lips.  
Within twenty minutes, I was all made up and dry. I walked into the bedroom painfully in just a towel, limping and hissing with almost every step. My overnight bag had a pair of black pants to go with my purple, long sleeved blouse. I let my hair stay down, feeling it flow heavily along my back and down to my hips. I sat on the bed and propped my leg up, wrapping it in the elastic bandage around my foot.

There was a knock at my door just as I was slipping my foot into the boot. “Come in!” I called. Hannibal poked his light brown head in the door, his eyes finding me quickly. He smiled when he met my eyes, then pushed the door open, holding a large silver tray with bowls and a coffee pot on it.

“I thought you might like some breakfast,” he said as he came in. He put the tray on the bench and came to stand next to me, watching me strap the boot on and inflate it to keep my leg steady in it. “You’ve bathed,” he observed. “And I very much doubt you had your boot on for it.”

“A lady has to be clean,” I retorted, smiling up at him as I stood. I faltered and Hannibal quickly reached to steady me. “Thank you. Really, I’m ok.”

I watched him move back to the end of the bed. I noticed he was dressed in brown slacks with darker brown plaid and a white, pressed shirt. The sleeves were buttoned at the wrist. His tie was brown with black stripes. I knew before he started the day he would have a waistcoat and a jacket on to match the slacks. His hair was styled as always, combed to the side. He was neat and clean. He must have gotten up as early as I had.

“I normally don’t eat breakfast, Hannibal,” I said, limping to the end of the bed.

“Yes, but I told you I would be putting weight on you, remember?” he responded. He looked up and saw me limping. The pain must have been obvious on my face as I sat down. “You’re hurting yourself needlessly. I would be happy to bring the food to you.”

“I’m fine, I promise,” I said.

He came to stand in front of me with a small bowl of what looked like scrambled eggs, sausage, and green peppers. “Never lie to me, Mattea,” he said looking directly into my eyes. “You’re in pain, as you should be. If you’ll sign a waiver, I’d be happy to look at your x rays and see the extent of your injury.”

“I’m afraid you’d be more insistent if I did that,” I retorted with a smile. I took the bowl he offered me. He crouched down in front of me, holding up a fork.

“You’re a very naughty patient,” he said with a tick of a smile. “I will insist on you to behave yourself. When is your next appointment?”

I took a bite of the scramble. “Actually, it’s later today,” I said after I swallowed. “I can call a cab if you’ll be busy.”

“What time?” he asked succinctly.

“It’s at four-thirty,” I said almost shyly.

“I’ll reschedule my patient for four,” he replied, turning to give me a ghost of a smile. “I’d like to have a discussion with your surgeon. I don’t think the cart is going to work for a house this big with so many stairs. I’d like to get you some crutches. It will give you a little more independence. I also wonder if we shouldn’t schedule you for surgery while you’re in my home rather than alone. You’re terrible to yourself and would probably end up doing more damage to yourself if left to your own devices.”

“But we don’t know if I need surgery,” I said with a deep frown. “It’s just a hairline fracture at the base of the tibia. It hurts to move around on, but nothing is moving.”

“Yes, but if you move around on it too much, it will make the fracture bigger and eventually break the base of the tibia off,” he retorted. He was having none of it. I sighed in resignation, and he smirked at me. “You’re stubborn, Mattea, but I’m more so.”

“I’m beginning to figure this out,” I mumbled. I took another bite, this time including some sausage. “This is very good, Hannibal, thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said as he retrieved his own bowl. He went and got the chair from the writing desk and brought it over close to me so we could eat together. “I insist that you eat every bite.”

“It’s very good, but my stomach is very small, and I’m not used to eating more than once a day,” I said softly, eyes down into the bowl. I was already full, but I didn’t want to be rude.

“We’ll go slowly, then,” he said as he sat close to me and took a bite from his own bowl. He watched me with those golden-brown eyes. It was almost unnerving how he seemed to pick up every detail with just a flick of his eyes. He chewed slowly, savoring the food. He loved his food. While I enjoyed the flavor, I still couldn’t eat very much of it and took small bites.

“What are your plans for the day?” he asked after he chewed and swallowed. “You were up very early. I’d expected you to sleep in longer.”

I laughed. “I thought you would be asleep longer, too,” I said. “I get up early to start writing. I’m not much of a morning person, but I’m a little behind and I need to catch up.”

Hannibal made a thoughtful sound and stood. He got up and put his bowl on the tray and poured some coffee from the little carafe he had brought upstairs. “Sugar, cream?”

“Just cream,” I said with a soft smile. He returned my smile and put cream in the dark coffee. He made it a soft beige and brought the delicate cup to me.

“Don’t force yourself,” he said as he sat down. “Eat what you can. I won’t be offended. We’ll have to work on your appetite. I’m very careful with what I put in my body. That means that I cook all of my meals myself. I know what is in every bite. I prefer it that way. While you’re with me, you’ll only get the most nutritious foods, that’s a promise.”

“Thank you for understanding,” I said as I put the bowl on the bed next to me. “You seem to like cooking very much. I think the only thing I’m as passionate about is my writing.”

“How long have you been a writer?” he asked with a sly, knowing smile. He knew, but he asked anyway.

“I was ten when I started writing stories,” I answered honestly, a smile in my voice. “My mother had moved us fifty miles south so she could go to school. I was the new kid and unfortunately, I was an early bloomer. Kids called me fat because I had curves and they didn’t. I started to write my feelings down. Feelings became dreams, dreams became stories, stories evolved into novels by the time I was fifteen.”

“Is that when your eating disorder started?” he asked frankly. Honestly, it took me back for a moment and my mouth dropped a little. I corrected my face before he looked up from his food.

I cleared my throat a bit before I answered. “Yes, I developed anorexia. I would go days without eating. Over the summer, I rode my bike everywhere and toned my body. By the time school started again, I was tan, toned, and still a bit curvy.”

“I don’t think you could be anything but curvy,” he said behind his own cup of coffee. I blushed and nibbled on my lower lip. “You’ll bite it off if you’re not careful,” he said without looking up. “That would be a shame.”

I blushed so much harder. “What are your plans for today?” I asked, trying desperately to change the subject. Talking about my looks always made me uncomfortable. I was still very much an ugly stepsister in my eyes.

“My first patient will arrive in around an hour,” he said matter-of-factly. “I have back to back until four. My last patient will have to be rescheduled for tomorrow.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” I said apologetically. I didn’t want him to change what was his normal day-to-day life for me.

“Nonsense,” he said, turning to me, his empty bowl on his knee and his cup in his hand. “I’m going to see your surgeon with you. That’s that. Besides, ending early might be nice. We can make a night of it. I’ll make you foie gras for dinner with souffle for dessert.”

“Sounds very rich,” I said with my eyebrows raised.

“Oh, it is,” he said with a wicked smile. “I have a very good butcher. I’ll be sure to go by the shop while we’re out.”

He collected the dishes and balanced them on the tray that he’d brought in with him. “I have your cart just outside. I’ll bring it in before I leave. Will you be alright here alone?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said softly. “I’m usually alone.”

“You usually have full run of your home. You’re restricted to the third floor here.”

“Unless I hop down the stairs,” I teased. He gave me a half smile.

“Please refrain from hopping,” he said. “I’ll give you my office number. If you need anything, just call and I’ll bring it to you between patients.”

“I’ll be fine, I’m sure,” I said gently. I tried to tuck a curl behind my ear and I noticed he paused at the door, watching me. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all,” he said. “Just admiring a beauty when I see it.” Then he turned and simply walked out the door. I was left stunned in silence. Did he really just say that? Why would he say that? I didn’t understand. He brought in my scooter a second later and smiled a brief goodbye.

I knew that would be the last time I would see him until later in the day. I frowned to myself. I just didn’t understand why he would finish with that statement. Beauty? That wasn’t me. Maybe the art on the wall. Maybe that’s what he was talking about. He was watching me, though. I shook my head and limped over to the writing desk. He’d returned the chair before he left. I sat quietly, pulling my computer from the case and turned it on. I sighed. Let’s get this day started, shall we? I thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal accompanies Mattea to her surgeon's appointment and discovers just how unhealthy she is. The Baltimore Butcher makes a call. A kiss.

The hours passed quickly, as they always did when I immersed myself in my writing. It was like the rest of the world just fell away. It was easy to spend hours and hours at the computer. It was one of the reasons why I didn’t eat much. Rarely had the conscious thought to actually stop and do it. I could feel the throbbing in my ankle and would stop occasionally to adjust it. I almost wished I had a stool or another chair to rest it on. Maybe I’d ask Hannibal if he could assist me.

His last comment would come back to me once in a while. It would make me burn with blush. I actually worried a hole into my bottom lip throughout the day. “Beauty?” What made him say that? I didn’t understand.

The knock on my door made me jump and yelp a bit. I’d just finished a chapter and I hadn’t looked at a clock in hours.

“Mattea?” came Hannibal’s voice. “Are you ready?”

“Come in,” I said, twisting in my chair. I wasn’t ready. All I had to do was put on my shoe, but I was still in writer mode. I was looking around for my shoe from my chair at the writing desk when he opened the door. “Just give me a minute to find my shoe.”

He waited patiently at the door as I looked around. When I stood, he moved to stop me. He put me back in the chair, then paused as he looked at my face. “You’ve bitten yourself,” he murmured. “You’re bleeding.” His hand cupped my jaw and his thumb feathered over my lip, wiping the blood away. I felt the sharp sting from the salt on his fingers. I blushed and looked down, almost ashamed that he’d caught me.

“Yeah, it gets a little intense while I’m writing,” I said apologetically. He stood next to me for a moment but I refused to look up, instead looking for my damn shoe. I spotted it beside the bed behind the suitcase. I tried to stand again.

“Mattea,” Hannibal said in a low voice. His accent made my name sound almost like a threat. My heart started pounding as I looked up to meet his gaze. His golden-brown eyes were locked on my dark brown. “Just tell me where the shoe is and I’ll retrieve it. Don’t stand up again until you have your shoe on. Then be sure to use your cart.” He left no room for argument. He was completely serious. I suddenly felt like prey and he was a big cat hunting me.

“M-my shoe is by the bed, behind the bag,” I said softly, my throat going dry. He turned and moved quickly, retrieving my shoe and bringing it back to me. He handed it to me with the same serious face, watching me, studying me. “Thank you.” I bent and put my shoe on my little foot, clearing my throat. I reached for my scooter but found that Hannibal had already brought it closer to me. I stood then and he didn’t stop me. Instead, he smiled lightly and guided me to the door.

The hall was painted a deep green. Deeper than forest, like emerald. The floors were oak with a lighter green rug running the length. He had to have designed the house specifically for his taste. I felt bad rolling over the carpet with my stupid scooter. 

We paused at the top of the stairs. I looked over to Hannibal and he nodded to me. Yep, he was going to carry me again. His jacket and waistcoat were in place and it had to be uncomfortable carrying me everywhere, but he didn’t complain. Instead, he would just swoop me up and begin trekking down the stairs. He placed me down at the foot, making sure I leaned up against the banister for support. He nodded curtly and went back up to retrieve the cart.

“I’ve pulled the car around,” he said as he descended. “It’s right out front. If you’ll give me the name of the clinic, I’ll put it into the GPS and we’ll be on our way.”

Once the scooter was in my hands and my knee was bent on it, I pushed my way to the door. He opened it and I rolled over the threshold. He picked me up without warning and stepped down the two steps to the bottom and walked me to the running luxury car that was parked at the curb. He didn’t even stop for the cart, just asked me to open the door and placed me inside. After he shut the door, he retrieved the cart and put it in the trunk.

I gave him the name of my doctor and we were on our way in just a few minutes. He was silent and the silence was deafening. I frowned to myself and fiddled with my fingers. My teeth found my lip again and again came the chastising voice.

“Mattea,” he said simply. “You’ve hurt yourself by biting your lip. What has you so concerned that you’ve done this to yourself?”

“Is that what I’ve done wrong?” I asked softly. He looked at me then, his eyes searching for something in my face. I frowned more.

“You think I’m angry with you.” It was a statement, not a question, so I didn’t answer it. I just watched him. His eyes went back to the road. I saw a faint smile cross his face as he watched where he drove the car. “I’m not angry. You would definitely know if I was. I’m disappointed that you’ve hurt yourself. I know you didn’t mean to, but I’m wondering why you’ve done it. Are you worried about your appointment?”

“A little,” I said. It wasn’t a lie. I was concerned, but I’d worried my lip because of what he said this morning. Had he said it to manipulate me somehow? What did he want from me?

“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “Whatever the doctor has to say, you will get through it. You’re a very strong person.”

“I’m actually a little more concerned with what you’ll have to say,” I said honestly. He seemed intent on protecting me from myself. The thought of having to do surgery and having Hannibal as my caretaker was a little overwhelming. I was so used to doing things on my own.

“You shouldn't be,” he responded. “I’m only looking out for your wellbeing. You do far too much yourself. You should have someone to help you while you deal with this injury. It’s a serious one, far more serious than you’d like to admit. You could cause permanent damage to yourself if you’re not careful.”

I nodded and sat back in the comfortable seat. He’d had the heater running just right so it was warm enough in the car to be cozy. The GPS gave directions and Hannibal dutifully followed them. It wasn’t long before we were pulling up to the front door. Hannibal parked right out front, got out and got my cart. Then he came to my door and helped me out.

“Go inside while I park the car,” he instructed. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

I nodded and pushed myself to the handicapped door, pushing the button to open the door. I heard him get back in the car and pull away. I went inside, trying to keep the chill away as much as possible. I checked in with the receptionist and took a seat in the waiting room. Hannibal came in a few minutes later, shaking his long coat out a bit while looking for me. He smiled when he spotted me and came to sit next to me, taking off his coat and unbuttoning his jacket.

“Have you checked in?” he asked. I nodded silently. “I’m sorry if I came off as cross with you before. I don’t like seeing you hurt yourself.”

“Thank you, Hannibal,” I said. “I’ve taken care of myself for so long that it’s alien to me to have someone else care.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he said with a smile.

“Miss Smith?” called the nurse. Off we went.

They weighed me and even with the boot, I was only one hundred and nine pounds. I noticed Hannibal making a mental note of it, his face placid and expressionless. Only his eyes betrayed him. He didn’t like that number. They took my vitals, my blood pressure low, only ninety-four over sixty. Of course, I watched Hannibal take it all in, making mental notes to probably go over with me later. My oxygen was fine and my pulse was regular.

“I’ll let the doctor know you’re here,” the nurse said, closing the door behind her.

“You still suffer from your eating disorder,” Hannibal said in a normal tone. “You’re underweight and your blood pressure is too low. You don’t take very good care of yourself. I’m glad to do it for you.”

“My weight is fine,” I countered softly. “I used to be ninety-five pounds. It took me a while to put on the weight.”

“A whole five pounds,” he said simply, but I knew he was chastising me again. He turned and looked at me, his face expressionless. “We’ll get you healthier, I promise.”

My response was cut off by Dr. Allen, my orthopedic surgeon coming into the room. He made his normal pleasantries, asked me how I was doing and if I was using the cart. I nodded to him with a smile.

“That’s not entirely true,” Hannibal said. 

“What do you mean?” Dr. Allen asked flatly, only now noticing Hannibal sitting there.

“Excuse me,” Hannibal said, extending his hand. “I’m Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Mattea has been placed in protective custody in my home. I’ve been able to study her actions and she often opts to walk on her own and not use the cart. I would suggest crutches for her to give her more independence.” 

“The cart is easier to use,” my doctor started.

“Not in a house as big as mine,” Hannibal said, cutting him off. He smiled to soften his words. “There are many stairs, you see, and she can’t use the cart to steady herself while going up and down them.”

“I see,” Dr. Allen said, frowning. Clearly, he hadn’t expected to have such a dominant personality in the room. Neither had I, to be honest. Hannibal was usually all manners and polite discussion. Had I made him that mad?

Dr. Allen turned back to me, sitting on the little round stool on wheels. “Let’s take a look, shall we?” He helped me put my boot on his knee and take it off. He undressed the wrapping and there was my ankle for Hannibal to see. His face closed up when he saw the purple and blue of blood pooling around my ankle. I’d torn it up pretty well. My little foot was swollen, purple, and painful. The doctor moved his fingers around asking me where it hurt. I told him pretty much everywhere.

“I caught her walking without her boot this morning,” Hannibal said simply. I looked at him. Tattle tale.

“Now that’s a no no, Mattea,” Dr. Allen said with a friendly smile. “You need the keep the boot on for stability and if you put too much weight on it, the bone will chip. Then we’ll be in for it.”

“Yes,” Hannibal said. “I’d like to discuss surgery.” Hannibal folded his hands over his coat that was in his lap. “She’s probably better off getting it out of the way while she’s with someone rather than when she’s on her own. Let’s face it, she’ll need surgery. Her bones are too frail not to.”

“I don’t think she needs surgery yet,” Dr. Allen said, his posture straightening. “The fracture is very small. She did more damage to the soft tissues than she did to the bone itself.”

“May I see the images?” Hannibal asked.

“Of course, doctor,” Dr. Allen said. I don’t think he was enjoying himself at all. He stood and turned on the monitor over the examination table. He pulled up the picture of my ankle bones. Hannibal stood closely and looked over it carefully.

“You see here?” Hannibal asked, pointing to the start of the fracture. There was a slight gap between the pieces of bone. “This sharp edge will do more damage to the soft tissues if it isn’t braced properly.”

“Yes, that’s why I’ve prescribed the boot and the support bandages,” Dr. Allen defended.

“That would work fine if you didn’t have such a defiant patient,” Hannibal said, turning to face both Dr. Allen and myself.

“What if we do this?” Dr. Allen asked. He turned to me, effectively cutting Hannibal out of the conversation. Hannibal straightened his posture and turned his head slightly. He wasn’t happy. “How about we give you the crutches as Dr. Lecter has suggested, you agree to be a good patient, and we’ll do more imaging in another two weeks?”

I nodded. “Sounds good, doctor,” I said. I looked at Hannibal. “I have a very thorough caretaker for a while. I think I can manage.” He rewarded me with a little smile and I blushed.

I reached down to start dressing my horrible looking ankle myself and Hannibal crouched next to me. He gave me a look and I sat back. He was obviously going to do it. I guess I didn’t do it well enough in his opinion.

He was surprisingly gentle with me as he wrapped my foot, propping my leg up on his knee and letting my foot hang freely. He wrapped it slowly, making sure it stabilized the foot as best as he could. He smoothly set my foot back down and grabbed the boot.

“Put your foot inside,” he instructed softly. “I’ll help you strap it in.” I nodded, slipping my foot down to the bottom. I winced once my foot made contact with the bottom of the boot. Hannibal clicked his tongue. “Careful.” He helped me wrap the padding around my leg. I felt his fingertips against my skin along the bottom of the pulled-up pants. It stilled my breath for a moment. I don’t know why. 

Once I was strapped in, Hannibal stood and faced the doctor. “Please, if we could get the crutches, we’ll be on our way to make a new appointment,” Hannibal said stiffly. Dr. Allen nodded and left the room silently.

Hannibal turned back to me. “I knew your injury was worse than you let on,” he said as he slid his coat on and buttoned his jacket. “Why didn’t you tell me you were that swollen? I’d have given you ice.”

“Honestly, I didn’t know,” I said softly, my eyes looking around the room. “I can feel it throb, but I don’t know how much it’s swelled since it’s wrapped tightly already.”

“An injury like that is bound to swell,” Hannibal said looking down at me and tilting his head to the side. “I’ll have to be more careful with you in the future.”

“You already treat me like I’m made of glass, Hannibal,” I said with a laugh. “How much more carefully can you treat me?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” he said as the door opened.

“Here we go,” the nurse said cheerfully. “Let’s get them fitted to you.” I stood with the help of Hannibal. He had me put most of my weight on him as they adjusted the height of the arm pad. “How does this feel?”

I pulled away from Hannibal’s warmth and tested the height. I nodded since it felt comfortable enough. The crutch was straight under my shoulder and I could put most of my weight on it. The nurse put the identical adjustments on the other crutch and put it under my left shoulder.

“Better?” she asked, smiling.

“Yes, this is better, thank you,” I said gratefully. I looked back at Hannibal and he was smiling pleasantly at the two of us, obviously happy that he’d gotten his way.

“Be safe,” the nurse warned as I tried to turn to go out the door. “They can be a bit tricky to get used to.”

Hannibal held open the door for me, a sparkle to those golden-brown depths. “Don’t put any weight on your foot,” he instructed gently. “Put all your weight on the crutches. Let them do the work.”

I almost fell twice before we got to the reception desk. Each time, Hannibal caught me, steadying me. I told them two weeks out and they scheduled me for another afternoon appointment. I put it into my phone, then noticed Hannibal making a mental note. Boy, he was serious, wasn’t he?

“Let me bring the car around,” he said. “I’ll come in and collect you. Have a seat and try not to fall.” He walked me over to a chair by the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Crutches, huh? I thought to myself, feeling slightly miserable and looking around the waiting room. There were fake plants in the corner by the windowsill. You could tell they were fake because of the dust and cobwebs all over them. With how much this place cost, you’d think they’d clean up more. I guess it was what it was.

Hannibal was back to collect me within minutes. He obviously hadn’t parked too far out. He quickly gathered me up, got me steady on my feet with the crutches, then held the door open. “Slow and steady,” he said in my ear, his breath blowing over my hair.

I took it as slow and steady as I could, Hannibal never far from me. He hovered around like a busy bee, making sure I didn't fall. The air was cold when I went outside. Hannibal had the car running right outside. He guided me to the passenger door, quickly swinging it open. I very ungracefully stepped in with my hurt ankle and fell into the passenger seat with a wince. Hannibal took my crutches and put them easily into the back seat. He was in the driver’s seat in no time. He had a grace about him and I knew he had to be an aristocrat from somewhere. We were underway in just a few minutes.

“Are you alright?” Hannibal asked, glancing over at me.

“Yes,” I said, the throbbing setting in. “Just in a bit of pain.”

“Did the surgeon give you a script for pain?” he asked, his face just placid, as if we were talking about the weather.

“Yes, I just haven’t filled it,” I said, shifting my left leg. It felt like it was going to explode with pain after being poked and prodded. I was very uncomfortable.

“Was it called into a pharmacy, or do you have the hard copy?”

“It’s a narcotic, so I have the hard copy. That’s also why I haven’t filled it. I don’t like the idea of being on a narcotic.”

“As long as you don’t abuse it, you should be fine,” Hannibal said in a placating voice.

“My mother did,” I said softly to my lap. I saw Hannibal glance at me out of the corner of my eye. “She would take them like candy. After she stopped drinking, she chose pills. Benzos, narcotics, anything she could get her hands on. It’s one of the many reasons I don’t talk to her.”

“I very much doubt you’re anything like your mother,” Hannibal said gently. “I can keep them with me if it would make you feel any better. Give them to you at the right times.”

I looked at him as he watched the road, driving smoothly. He was so sure, so steady. Nothing could shake him. He was a rock that could either anchor me or I could bash myself apart on him. I had to decide which as soon as possible. He was very stubborn. Two stubborn people don’t mix well and I had no idea how long I’d be a guest in his house.

“I would like that,” I said finally, still watching him. A ghost of a smile danced over his lips. A triumph. He’d won. I looked out my passenger window, watching the houses and neighborhoods go by. He’d said we would visit his butcher. I wondered if his butcher had a pharmacy in it.

“First,” he said, “I’d like to manage the pain. We’ll stop by a pharmacy I prescribe to and they’ll drop it off at the house when it’s filled. Then we’ll get dinner and go home.” It’s like he read my mind. I guess he was a very good psychiatrist.

“Will you leave me in the car?”

“Oh, no, that would be irresponsible of me,” Hannibal replied. “You’re my charge. You’re under my protection. I’ll take you with me. It will give you a chance to get more comfortable with your crutches.”

“Yay,” I said under my breath. My arms were already sore from them. I could see where he was coming from. I’d be able to navigate his house a lot easier with them, maybe even get up and down the stairs on my own more. They were just awkward. It would take time for me to get used to them.

“Did you get very much done on your novel today?” Hannibal said, making conversation. He was too polite to let the air sit still too long.

“I did,” I said brightly, ignoring the throbbing. “I finished two chapters. My editor will be pleased this weekend.”

“What do you write again?” he asked. He was making conversation, trying to put me at ease.

“Oh, nothing you’ve read, I’m sure,” I laughed. “Mostly women read my fluff. It’s fiction, vampires, werewolves, demons, and angels. There’s some romance amongst the violence, but that’s just to make sure it’s not monotonous. I’ve been writing this series for almost ten years. I have thirteen books just from this series. I have two other series that I write as well, but I’m not contracted to put anything out for them just yet. Just the one.”

“Writing involves a vivid imagination, not to mention organization and dedication,” Hannibal said, almost sounding impressed. “I’m sure it’s not fluff.” He looked over and grinned at me. I smiled back and hid the impulse to nibble my lip. I didn’t think he’d like that very much.

We reached the pharmacy quite quickly. It was one of those high-end pharmacies, not one in a department store like Wal-Mart or Walgreens. He helped me get out of the seat, but I had to push off with my leg and I faltered. Hannibal caught me on my way down, grabbing me by my shoulders before the back of my head hit the pavement. That would’ve hurt.

“Thank you, Hannibal,” I gasped, my fingers clutching his expensive overcoat. He brought me up to my feet, leaning me against the car so he could retrieve my crutches. He allowed me time to get situated before he moved for me to make my way out of the car. He never said a word, just watched and waited until I was ready. No judgement, no sighing, no fussing. Just dignified silence.

“Ready?” he asked, moving over to the door on the front of the pharmacy. I nodded and made my slow way to him, entering the pharmacy just before him. I felt his hand touch the small of my back through my coat as he guided my clumsy attempts of walking to the side counter.

“Dr. Lecter!” a very friendly man said. He was taller than Hannibal by just a few inches. He was balding with thick rimmed glasses and a white coat. Just a typical pharmacist. He smiled warmly at me, then looked back to Hannibal. “What can I do for you today?”

Hannibal tilted his head to look at me and I tried to get into my purse. He tisked at me and took it from me, reaching in and finding the script quickly. He wasn’t impatient, he just didn’t want me to take my mind off standing upright. 

“I’d like this to be filled,” he said handing the paper to the pharmacist. “Charge it to me and have it delivered to my home when it’s ready.”

“Yes, Doctor,” the pharmacist said, taking the prescription. He looked me over quickly, knowing that the Vicodin was mine obviously. I winced inwardly.

“I can pay for it, Hannibal,” I said softly, looking up at him.

“Nonsense,” he replied. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

“It shouldn’t take more than an hour, Doctor,” the pharmacist said, giving the prescription to one of his staff to fill.

“Perfect, thank you, Stanly,” Hannibal said, that hand going to my back again. He patiently turned me and guided me back out the door.

At the car, I frowned. I didn’t like the idea of getting back in just to get back out. It hurt. I think Hannibal noticed my frown and tilted his head at me.

“We only have one more stop left and then we’ll be home,” he said softly. He moved close to me, opening the passenger door and waited for me. He was in no hurry to push me in the car and get on with it. He waited for me to make the decision to get in, how I would get in, and then he would go on his way.

I sighed. Might as well get it over with. I took the crutches out from under my arms and passed them to Hannibal, holding onto the open door. I stepped in with my left leg and once I put weight on it, I cried out and fell into the seat. I felt tears sting at my eyes and I bit them back.

Hannibal was right there, smoothing my curls that had fallen in front of my face. He held my chin and brought my closed eyes to look at him. “Open your eyes, Mattea,” he instructed. I opened them and a tear tumbled down my cheek. His thumb went over to wipe it away. “We’re almost done and then we won’t leave the house for a while, I promise.” I nodded and he moved away, putting the crutches in the back seat and then getting in on the driver’s side.

Our last stop wasn’t far away. It was a very bright butcher shop, clean looking even from the outside. There was a patrol car in front of it. Hannibal seized the opportunity.   
“I’ll ask them to wait with you while I go in,” he said to me, “that way you don’t have to get out again.” I nodded.

Hannibal got out of the car and walked up to the officers that were parked there. He leaned into the window and exchanged words, looking back at me a few times as if to make sure I hadn’t made a run for it. One of the officers, a female, got out of the passenger side. She walked with Hannibal to my side of the car. I rolled down the window, letting the cool air flood in, and smiled in greeting.

“I’m Officer Hadly,” she said with a smile. “I’ll sit with you while your husband goes inside the shop.”

“Oh, no!” I said quickly. Hannibal’s eyebrows rose a bit and he opened his mouth. “He’s not my husband, he’s a very good friend.” He closed his mouth and gave a slight smile, obviously happy with what I said.

“Oh, sorry about that,” Officer Hadly said. She turned to him and gave him a smile. “I’ve got her. Just get what you need.”

Hannibal gave me a nod and turned, entering the butcher shop quickly.

“Just a friend, huh?” the officer said, turning back to me. “He’s awful protective of you to be just a friend.”

“We actually only met last night,” I said honestly. “He’s my protector against some serial killer, I guess. He takes his task very seriously.”

“A serial killer, huh?” Hadly asked, leaning into the window and crossing her arms.

“Yes, apparently he’s called the Baltimore Butcher or something.”

“You serious?”

I nodded, flattening my lips in a solid line. “Yes, indeed. I guess that’s how I hurt myself. He pushed me down my stairs.”

“Then you didn’t really hurt yourself, he hurt you,” she said. I nodded again. “I heard he does some awful stuff to his victims. Murders them and rapes their corpses.”

My jaw dropped. I hadn’t known that little detail. Raped their corpses? Really? Ok, I was going to stay close to Hannibal. He’d have a hell of a hard time getting to me through him.

Just then, Hannibal came out of the shop, a paper parcel in his hand. He smiled to me and waved. Officer Hadly said her goodbyes and told Hannibal to keep a close eye on me. He nodded politely to her and got into the car.

“Good conversation?” he asked shortly, putting the medium sized paper parcel into the back seat. He turned back and smiled at me in a frank sort of way.

“She wasn’t all together unpleasant to talk to,” I said, still mulling over the details she’d told me. “She told me a little more of what I’m up against.”

Hannibal went still as he drove. The only movement was his hands on the wheel. It was eerie. He said absolutely nothing for a few moments, just drove.

“What did she tell you?” he asked finally, breaking the heavy silence.

“Just that this stalker raped his victims,” I said honestly. I tried to keep my tone light as I said it, trying to make sure he didn’t see how much it bothered me. I’d been a victim of rape before. I had no designs to be one again.

“He does, once their dead,” he said flatly. “Did she tell you anything else?”

“No,” I answered. That was enough. I didn’t need more.

We didn’t speak again until we got to the house, his imposing three-story house. I was still shocked by the size of it. He stopped in front of it, turning to me and smiling. “We’re home,” he said. “You can relax a bit once we’re inside.”

I nodded and he got out of the car, doing the same dance of getting my crutches out and opening my door. I looked up at him and he gave me an encouraging curl of the lips. I sighed and shifted, trying to just step out with my right foot and not use my left at all. Hannibal gave me his hand and he pulled me up. I only had to use my left foot a bit, but it still hurt.

“You’re getting better at this,” he said lightly. I still couldn’t place the accent. It was thick when he was emotional, which wasn’t often, though I’d upset him a few times today. I smiled up at him and tucked the crutches under my arms. He shut the door behind me and guided me up to the stairs. “Now, what I want you to do is use the rail and the crutches to lift you up. You’ll have to give it a little hop to start.”

“I’m so graceful when I do that,” I said dryly. I took the crutches out from under my right arm and held it with my left hand. My right hand went to the rail. I hopped up one step and swayed. He was there, his hands gently guiding me and keeping me upright. Up one more step and I was to the door.

“Just like that,” he said, almost proudly. He opened the door and let me inside. The foyer light was already on. I figured he left it on when we left or he had some sort of remote system for them. “I’ll go park the car. Please, make your way into the kitchen. I’ll meet you there.”

I nodded and took a few steps into the house with the crutches. I was starting to get the hang of them and moved much easier than the cart. It was still awkward, but it wasn’t as embarrassing. I moved through to the back of the house where I knew the dining room and kitchen were. His kitchen was beautiful. The floor was sandy brown bricks with white grouting. There was a butcher block almost in the center, with a stainless-steel island closer to the door. On the left of the entrance, there was a large, double door stainless steel refrigerator with what looked like three ovens just a bit further down. Another larger island was close to the back door and the rest of the counters. It had a gas stove on it with stainless steel all around. I was beginning to notice a theme. The oak cabinets that lined most of the opposite wall were topped with marble counter tops, a sink just under the back window and appliances spotting the tops. There was a chair mercifully in the corner across from the entrance. I floundered my way over and flopped unceremoniously into it.

Hannibal wasn’t long, the parcel in hand. He had left his coat somewhere else. I felt silly for not taking mine off sooner, instead folding it over my lap. He smiled at me as he entered.

“You found the chair,” he mentioned as he started to strip down. He took off his jacket and his waistcoat and left them on the arm of the chair. He loosened his tie and took it off over his head, leaving that on top of the pile. He looked so dressed down in just slacks and a white shirt. He unbuttoned the cuffs and rolled them up over his leanly muscled forearms. He smiled before he turned and walked to the long island, tying a chef’s apron across his waist.

“I did,” I said, watching him move. “It’s quite comfortable.”

“I’m glad you approve,” he replied, giving me another slight turn of the lips.

Watching him cook was like watching a performance. I didn’t realize I’d be eating duck liver until he told me what it was. He told me not to worry, that it would taste elegant. He almost danced through his kitchen and it smelled so good. Yes, it was liver, but I’m sure it would melt in my mouth.

It didn’t take all that long to make and plate. He dressed the plates with little garnishments and details that I would never have thought of. He made polite small talk while he worked. I didn’t want to distract him very much. He looked so good doing something he obviously loved so much. I kept my answers short but respectful. I was distracted by seeing him cook. I’d never seen anything so graceful.

“Are you ready to eat?” he asked after he put the finishing detail on the dishes.

“Of course,” I said, standing awkwardly and getting the crutches under me. He took the dishes to the dining room and put them in the same places he’d had us eat the night before. No one was above the other, we were equals at his dinner table.

Just as we were about to sit down, the doorbell range, an echoing chime that danced off the halls of the house.

“That must be your prescription,” Hannibal said with a smile. “I’ll just go collect it and be right back.” He left the room with a brisk pace, leaving me alone with the artful dishes. I smiled and sat back, relaxing.

My phone started ringing suddenly. I stood with the help of the crutches and swung myself over to the chair I’d left my coat on. I fished the bulky smart phone out of the coat pocket and froze. Private Caller read on my display screen. Oh God. Was this the killer? I knew that my phone was tapped, but I put it on speaker anyway.

“Hello?” I answered, my heart in my throat.

Nothing, silence echoing from the other end.

“If this is about my car’s extended warrantee, that bird flew the coop a few years ago,” I said, trying not to sound afraid. I looked up almost helplessly as Hannibal came back into the room with a small pharmacy bag.

“You’re not at home,” came a deep, creepy voice.

Hannibal slowed and came to stand next to me. I swallowed hard. “No, I’m staying with a friend while I heal up. That push you gave me caused a lot of damage.”

Silence answered me for a few long heartbeats. “I’ll find you,” the caller warned. “They won’t be able to stop me. I’ll find you and you’ll be my bride.” Then he hung up.

I suddenly felt sick and almost fell into my chair, completely forgetting about impoliteness or decorum. The crutches would have fallen if Hannibal hadn’t caught them. I was out of breath. He’d never spoken before. It had always been silence when I answered. His threat was clear. He wasn’t done with me. I began to wonder if I’d put Hannibal at risk.

Hannibal took my phone out of my hand, then went to retrieve a landline phone from the kitchen. He dialed a number and hit send, taking a few steps away from me. “Jack,” he said as the other end must have picked up. “He’s called. He told her that she was going to be his bride.” He paused for a few minutes, then, “Yes, she’s shaken at the moment. Yes, I’ll see you then.” And he hung up, turning back to me. He knelt down next to my shaking form.

“It’s alright, Mattea,” he said soothingly. “Jack is on his way. They recorded the call but it was too short for a trace. You did well.”

“I-I should have kept him talking for longer,” I stuttered out, cold all over. I crossed my arms over my stomach, hunching over, trying to get the chill out of my body. I was shaking and my hair went over my face, curls tickling my nose.

“Hush, Mattea,” Hannibal said, his fingers going through my curls to pull them back and out of my face. With his other hand, he ran a finger under my chin, pulling my wild eyes to him. “You did well. There’s nothing to be afraid of. He won’t be able to touch you with me. Calm down, breathe. It’s all ok.” His accent was thick and comforting. He kept running his hand over my hair, as if petting me. I don’t know why it helped, but it did. It was a solid sensation, slow and regular, that I could try and match my racing heart to. After a few deep breaths and a few minutes of shivering, I started to calm down. “That’s better,” he said, his lips curling up into a soft smile.

He stood, his hand still in my hair. He gently put a hand on my shoulder, straightening my posture and turning me to face the table and the meal he’d laid out. “Let’s eat before Jack gets here,” he suggested. “We don’t want it to get cold.”

I wasn’t very hungry, but he’d gone to so much trouble to make it for me, I couldn’t say no. I picked up my knife and fork and cut into the liver. The knife went through it like butter. I put the first bite into my mouth hesitantly, noticing that Hannibal was watching me while he cut his own bite. I closed my lips around the fork and took the meat into my mouth. Oh, it melted on my tongue. Complex flavors filled my taste buds, dancing through my mouth. I couldn’t help the moan that came out of my mouth.

“Oh, Hannibal,” I said after I’d swallowed, “this is exquisite. Thank you for making it for me. It’s delicious.”

He nodded to me, taking his own bite, his mouth smiling as he chewed. He was proud and it showed. He should be. He’d outdone himself. It was amazing. I finished the entire plate like I’d never eaten before, stopping occasionally to savor the flavor that flowed through my mouth.

Just as I finished, the doorbell rang again. Instantly, my anxiety was back. Hannibal noticed. “It’s just Jack,” he said soothingly. “Wait here while I let him in. It’s alright. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re safe here.” He exited the room quickly, a brisk beat to his gate.

I felt like throwing up. I took deep, steadying breaths, in through the nose, the smell of our delicious dinner filling my lungs, then out through the mouth. Over and over. It took a few minutes for them to come into the room. I think Crawford was talking over the conversation with Hannibal. I could hear their voices distantly in the foyer. They were calm and I took consolation from that. There was no urgency or fear in those gentle voices.

Crawford entered the dining room first, quickly followed by Hannibal. I stood, bracing myself on the table so Hannibal wouldn’t chastise me for putting weight on my foot. He watched me, looking for just that, but I had figured him out. Then another face came into the room. It was Agent Graham. I smiled thinking I could ask about my Frank.

“Agent Crawford,” I said, extending a hand. He shook it gently.

“Miss Smith, you’re looking a little pale, are you alright?” Crawford said in a concerned tone.

“I’m fine,” I lied. Hannibal noticed, but said nothing. I turned to Graham. “How’s Frank, Agent Graham? Is he ok? Fitting in alright?”

Graham gave a genuine smile. “Yes, he’s doing fine. He likes to run with my dogs.”

“You don’t let him roam free, do you?” I asked, concerned. Frank didn’t like people much and had a tendency of biting first and making friends later.

“I live in a very rural area,” Graham explained. “There’s plenty of room for him to run with no danger. He’s fine, don’t worry.”

“Thank you so much for looking after him for me,” I said genuinely. I was so appreciative of him taking Frank in. He was a tough dog to deal with sometimes, which made him perfect for me because I didn’t expect much from him besides company.

Graham smiled again, nodding. Then he went back to being awkward and uncomfortable. “So the killer contacted you?”

I sighed, closing my eyes. I got dizzy and felt Crawford’s big, rough hands grab my shoulders.

“I think you should sit down, Miss Smith,” he said from behind me, guiding me down into the chair. He sat next to me, turning the chair to face me somewhat. He looked into my eyes, though I looked down into my lap. “What did he say, exactly?”

“You don’t have it recorded?”

“We do, but I haven’t had a chance to listen to it,” Crawford explained. “Just tell me what he said.” He wasn’t impatient. In fact, he was all patience and gentleness. I think Hannibal warned them about the panic attack I’d had after the call had ended and told them not to upset me further.

“He said I wasn’t at home,” I said finally. “He wanted to know where I was. I told him I was staying with a friend because he’d hurt me so badly. Then he told me he’d find me, that no one could protect me. He said I’d become his bride. I don’t know what he meant.”

“Bride,” Graham said, frowning to himself. His brain was ticking away and you could see it. “He thinks of these women as his brides, his wives. But why does he kill them so quickly?”

“Maybe he has a ceremony and they don’t cooperate,” Crawford suggested.

“Our killer is looking for love in all the wrong places,” Hannibal chimed in, sitting back down to finish his meal. 

“He follows them,” Graham spoke again, almost to himself. “He forms a connection with them. To him, they’re courting. They’re developing a relationship. He watches them. They’re all single young females, beautiful, dark hair and eyes. They’re all professional. They all have good jobs and live in good homes. They’re all alone. He sees himself as their partner, their boyfriends, their fiancés. When he feels like the connection is solid, he approaches them, makes contact. I can only imagine that the other eight women didn’t take kindly to his advances.” He stopped then and looked at me. “What did he say when he approached you?”

“He just came up to me and asked what my name was,” I said, thinking back to that night. “He smiled when I told him easily. Then he said we should go have dinner or something. I apologized and told him I was late for something, even though I was just taking my trash out. He asked again and I said ‘no, thank you, maybe some other time’. Then he pushed me.”

“You were polite,” Hannibal said, setting down his silverware. He put his elbows on the table and made a triangle with his fingers over his mouth. “You didn’t definitively say no, just not right now. You gave him hope that maybe in the future he could be what he wants. It was probably the only thing that saved you. That and the fact that one of your neighbors was out doing the same thing you were, taking the trash out.”

“Really?” I asked, looking to Crawford. “There was someone else out?”

“Yes, they came forward after you left with Dr. Lecter,” he explained smoothly. “They saw him talking to you, made eye contact and watched him push you down the flight of stairs. The wife called police, saying it was a domestic abuse situation. The husband tried to go after him.”

“I remember Percilla coming to help me sit up,” I said, my eyes going distant. “She had her phone in her hand. I thought she was just calling for an ambulance. That’s all that showed up. Henry went after him? He could have been killed!”

“Your neighbors saved you,” Hannibal said, drawing my eyes to his. He was watching me closely. “Not only were you polite, there were witnesses. He couldn’t just snatch you. You’d be easy to kidnap being so small. Instead, he shoved you. How many stairs are on your stair case?”

“Twelve,” I answered automatically.

“You’re very lucky,” Graham said from across the room. “You could have hit your head and died. He knew you didn’t, though.” Realization hit him, making his eyes widen. “He was there, Jack. He was still there when the ambulance took her to the hospital. He stayed and watched. He knows that we’re involved now. I don’t know if he knows where she is, but he knows she’s unable to protect herself.”

Fear sliced through me. Immediate panic attack. I started gasping for air, my eyes went wide, I clutched the table tightly. I heard Hannibal make a noise deep in his throat and Crawford trying to comfort me. Hannibal was by my side, his hand on my thigh. He was talking to me, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. All I could think about was that a murderer was watching me, following me. He could have come back during those days between the hospital visit and when the FBI came to my house and finished the job. He could have killed me.

My breath was coming in fast and hard, I felt like I was going to throw up again and I curled up into myself, rocking back and forth. I heard Hannibal say something to Crawford, but I couldn’t tell what it was. I could feel Hannibal’s hand on my back, making slow circles. I could hear him murmuring into my ear, close enough that his breath blew through my hair. His voice was even and calm. I tried to hang onto his voice, but the fear and the rapid thoughts just took over me. Hannibal said something to Graham, but I didn’t know what. I just rocked myself, bent over into myself. I held my chest and felt tears streaming down my cheeks. I was terrified.

Suddenly, Hannibal’s hands got a bit rougher. He reached into my mass of hair and grabbed my chin, pulling me to look at him. He smoothed the hair away from my face. I could see his mouth moving, but I couldn’t hear his words. He held my anti-anxiety pill in his hand, holding it close to my face. He wanted me to take it and I so wanted to take it.

I grabbed it from him and downed it with an entire glass of wine. I wanted to feel better so badly. I could hear Hannibal talking to Graham, he was scolding him.

“I told you not to upset her,” he said. My hearing was slowly coming back, the burning on the back of my neck slowly receding. I was still gulping for air. I felt Hannibal’s hand on my back again, making slow circles. He murmured into my ear slowly.

“Deep breaths, Mattea,” he said softly. “Feel my hand on your back. That’s reality. You’re safe here. You’re safe in my home, with me. Deep breaths. Come back to me, Mattea. Listen to my voice. I’m here. You have nothing to worry about.”

Slowly, I started to calm down. I didn’t clutch my shoulders so tightly that my hands hurt. I could breathe, even if it was just shudders. I closed my eyes. Hannibal’s finger went to my chin again, pulling my focus to him, making me meet his eyes. There they were, those golden-brown orbs of serenity. His big hand cupped my chin. 

“That’s it,” he said slowly. “That’s right, Mattea. Calmly. You’re fine, you’re safe. Everything is alright.”

I closed my eyes again and sighed, slowly correcting my posture. Hannibal stayed kneeling beside me, brushing my hair away from my cheeks. 

“I’m fine,” I said finally. I sat back and took slow breaths, not looking at anyone, the shame of my anxiety attacks sinking in. “I’m alright, thank you. Please, don’t worry about me.”

“I think it’s safe to say that that ship has sailed,” Crawford said somewhere beside me. “Your anxiety is extreme.”

“As I said,” Hannibal said simply, standing finally. He grabbed the bottle of red wine and poured me another glass. He brought it to my hand and looked into my eyes. “Sip it slowly,” he directed. I nodded and took a sip, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you,” Graham said, not making eye contact.

“Will, I think it would be best not to discuss the case at this moment,” Hannibal said, taking his seat across from me. He glanced over to the awkward man, then back to me, irritation shining in his eyes but his face expressionless.

“Please, tell me more about Frank,” I pleaded. “Did he have any trouble with your dogs? Sometimes, he gets a little aggressive with them, but not often. Being in a new environment, I don’t know how he would react.”

That made Graham smile genuinely again and look over to me. He didn’t make eye contact, just looked at my face. “He’s taken a liking to Winston,” he said. “Winston is one of my newest rescues and had a hard time acclimatizing to having a pack. They sleep together. They run together and play together. It’s very cute.”

I felt the anti-anxiety kicking in, making my head feel a little fuzzy, but calming my nerves. I sighed softly and Hannibal looked up to me, giving a little knowing smile. I was relaxing and he knew it.

“Thank you so much for taking care of him,” I said to Graham again. “I can reimburse you for the dog food. Feeding him isn’t cheap.”

“It’s not problem,” he said, “really. He’s a good boy, but I think he misses you. He keeps looking for you.”

I felt a pang of remorse. I missed him, too. I took another cleansing breath and suddenly realized that I must look horrible. I shyly tucked some curls behind my ear, only to have them fall back into my face. I looked up at Hannibal, seeing that he was watching me again.

“Is there a bathroom on this level?” I asked timidly.

He smiled and stood. “I’ll show you the way,” he said and brought me my crutches. 

I was a little hazy between the big gulp of wine and the clonazepam, making maneuvering the crutches a bit more difficult. He led me to a little half bathroom across the hall from the dining room. 

“I’ll be right here if you need me,” he said.

“I’m ok, Hannibal, thank you,” I said. “You can go back with Agents Crawford and Graham. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Hannibal nodded and turned on his heel, heading back to the dining room. I smiled after him. He was a very good psychiatrist. He could help me out of crippling panic attacks that would normally take me an hour or more to get through. I appreciated his help very much.

I went into the small half bath. This must be where he had his patients use the bathroom as there was another door to the left of the door I used. It was a dark room, painted a dark brown with a black vanity and sink under a mirror. The toilet was also black. I limped my way over to the mirror and took in the horrors that was my face. I studied my image in the mirror, my wild mass of curls around my shoulders and face, my puffiness. It was all a mess. I couldn’t do much about it, so I pulled down the cuffs of my shirt and grabbed my crutches. Time to go face the music, I thought.

It wasn’t far from the bathroom to the dining room. I paused a bit, hearing the conversation inside the dining room. The atmosphere was tense, even in the hall.

“Jack, she cannot be pushed further,” Hannibal was saying smoothly, his accent making it sound so poetic. “She’s already uncomfortable being out of her own home and away from her only support system here. She’s in pain from the injury she received from this killer. She’s being hunted. She needs a break. I’d like to ask her to not answer the phone calls for a few days. She’ll still see them and that will give her enough anxiety to deal with. Hearing his voice and talking to him is too much for her right now.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Dr. Lecter,” Crawford countered, “but we need to catch this guy before he chooses another victim.”

“He won’t do that,” Graham cut in. “She’s his next bride. He won’t lose sight of her. I think we need to put surveillance on Dr. Lecter’s house to make sure he doesn’t come here. If he does, maybe we’ll catch him before he catches her.”

“Will,” Hannibal said sharply. “She will be back any moment. Please keep your words in mind. We don’t want her going into another anxiety attack.”

Too late, I thought, feeling my heart start to race. The clonazepam was doing its job, though, keeping the other symptoms at bay. I could play this off and only Hannibal might know. If he was paying close attention.

I made sure to make some noise as I drew closer. I wanted them to know I was coming. The conversation stopped immediately after I closed the door a bit harder. As I made my way across the hall, I looked up to see Hannibal coming through the entry way. His face was placid, and his eyes were calm. Nothing said that he had just been chewing out two FBI agents. I smiled at him and continued on my way. He waited at the entrance with his left arm extended in a welcoming way. Once I was close to him, his hand went to the small of my back and guided me in.

“I’m sorry about that, Agents,” I said as I entered the room. “Thank you for being understanding. I hope I wasn’t too long.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” Crawford said, moving so Hannibal could put me back at my seat. “We should be heading out, anyway. If you need anything, Dr. Lecter, let us know. We’ll post some men out front to keep an eye on things.”

“Thank you, Jack,” Hannibal said. He was standing at the head of the table, his hands resting on the back of the chair there, leaning lightly on it. His body and face said he was relaxed, but I felt a thrum of energy around him. He wasn’t happy about something. He nodded a goodbye to Graham and looked over to me. Once they had shown themselves out and we heard the door close behind them, he smiled.

“It’s a bit late for souffle,” he said apologetically. “I’d like to give you one of your Vicodin now and then maybe we can go into my office and chat.”

I nodded, smiling softly up at him. “I’d like that,” I said, standing unsteadily. I got the crutches under my arms before Hannibal could come and help me. He stood back and dropped his hands, a small grin crossing his lips for a brief second. He grabbed the bottle of wine in one hand and our two glasses in the other, carefully balancing mine since it was full.

He moved around the other side of the table, looking back over his shoulder at me. “It’s just this way,” he said. I followed him back across the hall, to the door that was next to the bathroom. He pushed it open and I was stunned. The room was massive. As I drew closer, I saw that it was two levels, the upper level being a huge library of books with railing all around. There was a ladder across the room by the wall with the enormously tall windows with red and white drapes to the sides and a long white blind that covered all but the bottom two feet of the bay windows. The wall to the left was blood red, deep and rich. The walls to the left were a grayish brown. There were pillars all around to keep the upper library stable. There was a writing desk to the right, covered in pencil drawings. Next, a deep mahogany desk with everything neatly placed, including the lamp on the upper right hand of the desk. There was very little else on the desk itself. Just some notebooks and a pen.

In front of the desk, there were two chairs facing each other. That must be where all the magic happens. I could picture him in one, legs crossed, listening intently to a patient of some sort. He was always so observant. I’m sure he was excellent at his profession. There were glass tables beside the chairs. Just in front of the windows was a gray chaise lounge. Along the walls were beautiful paintings lit overhead with individual fixtures. Perfectly tasteful decorations. 

“Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair on the left. He set my glass down on the table next to it. I noticed on his desk was my prescription bag. He was going to be a man of his word and take care of them for me.

Once I sat down in the directed chair, he went to retrieve the bag. He opened it and pulled out the rather large tube of pills. They rattled as he moved. He opened the bottle and poured one into his hand. Then he closed the bottle and put it back on his desk. He moved to me and offered the pill. It was huge and I frowned.

“How powerful is that?” I asked, still eyeballing the pill as he set it in my hand.

“Quite,” Hannibal said simply, then turned to sit in his own chair. He poured himself another glass of wine, brought the cup to his nose and sniffed for a moment. Then he took almost a delicate sip and savored it. He always did that, no matter how many sips he took. It was like a ritual. He had to smell it, then sip it.

I placed the tablet on my tongue uncomfortably. I reached for the glass and raised it to my lips. I could feel Hannibal’s eyes on me. I had to take a large mouthful of wine to wash that enormous thing down, almost choking on it a bit.

“How many times do I have to do this?” I asked him once it was down.

“Every six to eight hours,” he answered, crossing his legs, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, and putting his hands in his lap. Psychiatrist mode activated, I thought to myself. I wondered what we were going to talk about.

“How long have you been a psychiatrist?” I asked, trying to direct the conversation his way rather than mine.

“For a few years,” he responded. “I turned to psychiatry after I was a surgeon. I had a patient die on my table so I decided to heal the mind, rather than the body.”

“That must have been hard. Did you blame yourself?”

“For a bit, but I knew logically that I did everything I could and that the outcome would have been no different had I changed anything I did. The mind is more complex than the body, so I thought it a good trade off.”

“And cooking,” I reminded him, raising my glass in his direction. He nodded his head a bit and smiled. “You’re very passionate in what you do no matter what it is.”

“Passion feeds the soul,” he said. “It gives us something to strive for and look forward to everyday. You have passion in your writing, so I’m sure you understand.”

I nodded to him, taking a sip. It suddenly occurred to me that I had just taken two sedatives and drinking a glass of wine. This may not go well.

I sighed. “You may be carrying me again, Hannibal,” I said as I breathed out.

“Is that a problem?” he asked, a pleasant smile across his face.

“I guess if it isn’t for you,” I said with a chuckle. “I can’t be light.”

His face grew serious. “You’re very underweight, Mattea. It concerns me that it doesn’t seem to bother you very much. You have almost zero body fat on you, all lean muscle. Do you work out as well?”

I nodded. “I usually work out in my home gym every day. Nothing too extreme. Just the stationary bike for a spinning class. Guess I won’t be doing much of those for a while.”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “You only consume a few hundred calories a day. Your body needs at least a thousand to survive. Then you get on a bike and burn that much more. You don’t see a problem with this?”

“Hannibal, I’m not anorexic anymore,” I said softly. “I’m small, but I’m not sickly.”

“You’re very close to it. A woman of your stature should be at least a hundred and ten pounds or heavier,” he countered. “You’re not unattractively slim, but you don’t have far to go to get there.”

I blushed and looked at my hands in my lap. “Why do you say that, Hannibal?”

“Because I’m concerned about your well-being,” he said simply, missing my point.

“No, the other part,” I said softly. “The attractive part.”

He frowned and tilted his head slightly, eyes roaming over me. “You’re a very attractive woman, Mattea. You’re quite beautiful, even. Don’t you see that?”

I shook my head, not looking at him. My teeth almost found my lip before I stopped it. I could feel him watching me. His eyes were moving over my body, my face, everything.

“This makes you uncomfortable,” he observed. “You’ve been told that you’re a very ugly duckling at some point, haven’t you.”

Even though it wasn’t a question, I nodded. I heard him stand slowly and walk towards me. He crouched down beside my boot. His hand reached up and combed through my hair, his thumb barely tracing my cheek. I looked at him then, watching his eyes. His face was serious, his eyes determined.

“You are very beautiful, Mattea,” he said, eyes never leaving mine. “Take my word on it. I won’t ever lie to you.” He stayed where he was, his fingers threading through my curls, his thumb feathering over my skin in the lightest of touches. I felt as if I was falling into his eyes. My breath caught in my throat in a light shudder. There was electricity in the air and a pull to him.

“What do you want from me?” I asked in a meek voice.

“Just a kiss,” he whispered back, leaning on his knee to meet me as he guided my face down to him. I could feel his breath on my mouth, smell the delicate notes of wine. When our mouths touched it was barely a connection. Just a brush of lips. It was soft. Then he came back for more, his mouth slanting over mine, the taste of wine in my mouth as he searched it gently with his tongue. I shuddered out a breath around his insistent mouth as he almost fed from me.

“Wait,” I said suddenly, pulling away gently. “Wait, I don’t understand what we’re doing. What are we doing?” I looked into his eyes, searching for answers. I hadn’t felt anything even remotely like this in well over a decade. I didn’t know what I was doing.

“Kissing,” he said. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

I frowned. “I want you to, but I don’t understand why. Why me?”

“Because you’re beautiful and I like you,” he said simply, pulling my head back down and kissing me again.

I felt dizzy and I leaned into him, my hands going to his broad shoulders. I held him carefully, as if he’d slip through my fingers. I kissed him deeply, almost desperately, tasting him, feeling him.

“Mattea?” came Hannibal’s voice through the fog. I looked up and saw him sitting in his chair, watching me as always. It had just been some sort of fantasy riddled hallucination. Man, these drugs were no joke.

“I’m sorry, Hannibal,” I said softly. “What were we talking about?”

“I asked you who convinced you that you weren’t attractive,” he answered. He turned his head with a slight frown. “Are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine,” I said with a light laugh. “I think the drugs are kicking in. My ankle still throbs, though.”

“Most prescription pain killers don’t exactly kill the pain,” he said. “They just make you high enough that you no longer care. Do you still care about the pain in your leg?”

After that fantasy, I didn’t care about much except hanging on to my dignity. Where had that come from? Was I sexually attracted to Hannibal? It had been so long since I felt such urges. They were strange and alien to me.

“No, I don’t think I do,” I said, my eyes looking at nothing and frowning. “Hannibal, I’ve been told all of my life that I’m plain and simple, that my sister was the real beauty with exotic coloring and features. She looks like my father, all dark olive skin and black hair and eyes. She had the figure of a goddess, hourglass and voluptuous. She was beautiful and I was not. All of my life. Everyone I encountered. Everyone.”

“That amount of conditioning would be hard to overcome,” Hannibal discerned. “Should I tell you what I see? I’ve only just met you, so my opinion is only a little biased.” He gave me a small smile and searched my eyes.

“I see a strong woman in her prime. I see long, luscious hair with natural ringlets that fall over you like a dark waterfall. I see deep brown eyes that reveal a gentle heart. I see full, thick lips that look soft and tender. I see a small nose that is proportionate to the rest of your face perfectly. I see symmetrical lines, high cheekbones, and a high forehead. I can see a small scar in the near perfection of your skin in the center of your forehead. I often wonder what that’s from. I see beauty. Your sister means nothing to me. You, however, do.”

My breath had left my lungs in a rush. He described such ideal looks. Like a model. I noticed that he didn’t comment on my body, probably not wanting to objectify me and he made sure to keep his gaze on my face. I felt a tear at my eye and frowned. He should be a writer, I thought to myself.

“Thank you, Hannibal,” I said softly. “I don’t believe it, but it does make me feel nice.”

“Believe it, Mattea,” he said firmly. “You are beautiful. You are worthy of compliments. You are not the ugly duckling anymore, instead the magnificent swan that is proud and powerful in her own right.”

I nodded, finally out of a blissful state long enough to blush. I looked shyly at my hands, my fingers twisting at my nails. I frowned. I could tell he was being honest with me, but I still didn’t see it. My family, my friends, even my boyfriends had told me my sister was more beautiful. I was confident that if he saw a picture of her, he’d change his mind. 

“It will take time,” he said, drawing me out of my own thoughts, his accent thick, “but I will disabuse you of these destructive thoughts.”

I had other reasons that I felt I was ugly, but I wasn’t about to show him those. He would definitely think I was crazy then. I tugged my sleeves down nervously.

“You’re a very modest woman,” he said, observing me again. “You dress modestly, keeping . . . assets covered.” I looked up at him again, catching his eyes roaming over my body. “You’re not flashy, you’re far from vulgar about yourself. I think you may be a bit too modest. You’re hiding something.”

My breath caught in my throat and my hand clenched around my sleeve. “Hiding something?” I asked, my voice barely a squeak.

He chuckled lightly. “Don’t worry, Mattea, I won’t push you any further tonight. You’ve already been so open with me and I don’t want to make you feel as if you’ve been violated in any way. I have a feeling you’ve felt like that before.”

My head swam. It wasn’t the same as last night with the wine. It was just fuzzy dizziness. Like there were feathers brushing around in my brain. I sighed and closed my eyes, giving my head a little shake. I still had half a glass of wine left.

“Hannibal, I feel strange,” I admitted. “I feel light and fuzzy like a feather. Am I ok?”

“Yes,” he said, leaning forward and adjusting his own shirt. “It’s just the drugs taking effect. You’ll be feeling better in no time. Just relax and let it take over you. Don’t worry, I’ll take you up the stairs myself and tuck you into bed. Just take deep breaths and relax.”

“Hannibal, I don’t want to be fuzzy,” I said. “I want to be able to talk with you.”

“Then talk with me,” he replied. “You’re not making sense to yourself, but you are to me, I assure you.”

“What should we talk about?”

“Where do you feel safest?” he asked. “I imagine your agoraphobia is still giving you troubles since you’re not in your familiar surroundings. What can I do to help you feel less anxious and more comfortable here in my home?”

“Oh, Hannibal,” I said with a smile. “You’ve been a perfect host, if not a little overly protective. I miss my home and I miss my dog. I miss my car,” I said, righting my head and raising an eyebrow. Hannibal laughed lightly. “I’m very comfortable here. Much more so than anywhere else I could have gone. You’ve given me everything I need.”

“I’m glad you’re not stressed,” he said. “I’m only protective because you’re so hard on yourself. I can tell that you don’t do a lot for self-care. You barely even bother with basic needs. Not eating can be very dangerous. I’ll be working on your appetite while you’re with me. Maybe I can convince you to have meals with me even when you’ve returned home.”

I grinned at him stupidly. He smiled, clearly amused. “I’d love to be your dinner guest anytime, Hannibal. You make dining an experience not to be diminished. Thank you.” I took another sip of my wine, frowning when I realized that most of it was gone. Had I really drunk that much?

“It’s already nine-thirty,” he observed, glancing at a watch I hadn’t noticed on his wrist. “Are you sleepy?”

“I could sleep,” I murmured. “I don’t really want to yet, but I definitely could.”

“Mattea, look at me,” Hannibal said, commanding my attention. “You’ve had a long day of writing, then a stressful and painful doctor’s visit. After that, you had someone who is intent on hurting you call you and send you into extreme panic. Jack and Will didn’t help with that. You’ve had a very long day. If you’re tired, I’ll take you upstairs. You can get into bed and we’ll talk until you’ve gone to sleep. How does that sound?”

I sighed, almost dreamily. What was wrong with me? “That sounds perfect, Hannibal, thank you.”

He smiled and stood, coming over and extending his hand. I took it and he helped me stand. “Are you ready?” he asked. I nodded and he lifted me effortlessly into his arms. “You’ll have to open the doors. I’ll keep us upright.”

He drew close to the door and I turned the knob, opening it for us. We went through and he kicked it closed lightly behind us. We passed the dining room and kitchen entrances and we were at the bottom of the stairs in no time. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and buried my face in his neck as he started ascending them, not wanting to freak out about the heights thing again. I smelled him. He had a sandalwood smell to him, deep and earthy. He obviously didn’t use aftershave, just left his skin naked after his morning routine. He nuzzled my hair slightly as I breathed him in. I was too busy burrowing my face into his neck to realize that we were at my door until he said my name.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said as I reached to open the door.

“You’re alright,” he replied. He walked us into the dimly lit room. No lights were on but the curtain was open all the way. I had opened it because I liked natural light while I worked. He walked over and placed me gently on the bench at the base of the bed. He slowly pulled away from me and I unwrapped my arm from his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Hannibal,” I said, my eyes searching the lush carpet. “I believe I’ve behaved badly.”

“How so?” he asked, bringing my left leg to rest across his knees. He began unstrapping the boot slowly and expertly.

“I-I was smelling you,” I said, disappointed in myself. “That’s not appropriate to do to a host.”

“That depends very much on the host, I think,” he replied. “I don’t mind you smelling me. I don’t think it was inappropriate. You’re not offending me in the slightest.” He removed the boot and accidentally bumped my foot. I winced and he stopped instantly. “Don’t move,” he said. “I’ll do my best not to do that again.”

“Am I going to sleep in my clothes?” I asked.

“Only if you want to. I can step away while you undress and get into bed.”

“Could you get me to the head of the bed first?” He nodded and lifted me up again. Instead of cradling me like a child, he just wrapped his arms around my waist and held me while he stood. My feet dangled a good foot off the ground. My arms went around his neck and I was left staring at his eyes. His face was very serious. I felt the hard line of his body pressed against mine. It was very intimate as he moved me to the top of the bed. He let me slide slowly down his body until my feet met the carpet, eyes never leaving mine. My breath was heavy, as if I’d been the one doing all the work. His was slow and steady, his heart beating in a regular rhythm. Mine was a staccato of nervousness.

“Thank you,” I whispered, our bodies still close, my arms around his shoulders, his hands on my hips. He looked over my face for a few moments, then stepped back.

“Don’t put any weight on your ankle,” he warned softly as he turned his back and went to the door, giving me space and privacy. 

I took my pants off first, sliding them down to my ankles and kicking them off while I sat on the bed. It was very indelicate but I was too fuzzy to care. I sat on the bed and pulled my shirt over my head, depositing it on top of my pants. I turned and pulled the blankets down and crawled into bed in my matching purple lace bra and pantie set. I’d take the bra off after he left. I obviously didn’t need to distract myself even more with all of this sexual energy.

“Ok, you can turn around,” I said once I’d covered myself up to my chin. He turned, his face pensive. He went over and grabbed the chair from the writing desk and pulled it up next to the foot of the bed. He sat, his posture always perfect, and crossed his legs while he cleared his throat slightly. I think he knew I was only in my underclothes.

“What shall we talk about while we wait for you to fall asleep, Mattea?” he asked, folding his hands in his lap.

“Can you tell me about where you’re from? I still can’t place your accent and it’s been driving me insane this entire time.”

He smiled slightly. “I’m from Lithuania. My family was noble family for generations. We lived in a sprawling manor with gardens and lush green growth. It’s particularly beautiful in the spring, when all the flowers bloom. It’s been a very long time since I’ve gone home. I never can again.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

His eyes got distant. “Too many bad memories.” It was the only time I’d ever seen him anything but positively sure of himself. He sort of looked lost for a few moments before his eyes flicked back to mine. “Will you ever go home to Idaho?”

“No,” I said softly. “That was never home. It was hell. My family always plagued me with demands, money, attention, the lack of attention, whatever they could think up. I haven’t talked to my mother or sister in years. They demanded a piece of my royalties from my books. My mother said that I never would have become a writer without her support. She never supported me. She just supported herself. My sister said that family should help family. I told her that I had worked hard for my money and that she could do the same. She just needed to stop being lazy about it. She didn’t like that much.”

“You fought very hard to stake your own claim on the world,” he observed, his eyes moving over my face. “You should be proud of your accomplishments. You’re very young to have achieved them. You were an early bloomer. Your success started when you channeled all that happened to you into your creativity. You were destined to be successful.”

“You can’t be that much older than me,” I said, frowning a bit.

“I’m forty-seven,” he said simply. He watched me for a reaction, but there was none. 

“See? Not that much older than me,” I said with a soft smile. He seemed to relax a bit in his chair. “You achieved success at a young age, didn’t you?”

“I was twenty-five when I graduated medical school.”

“Very nice. And you went so far as to become a surgeon.”

“A psychiatric surgeon,” he corrected. “I worked on the brain.”

“Even better,” I said with a shrug. “Now you heal people a different way. You help people. You take care of everyone around you, Hannibal. When was the last time someone took care of you?”

He dropped his gaze, going distant. He thought about it for a while, frowning and tilting his head to the side, his dark blond hair spilling over his brow. “I was very young,” he answered finally. “My aunt took care of me after my parents and sister died.”

“Oh, Hannibal, I’m so sorry.” I wanted to go to him, to touch his hand and give him some comfort. His haunted gaze came back to me, face all business.

“It was another lifetime ago,” he said dismissively. “I’m not the same person I was. I have evolved, changed, become.”

“You have, and I know I like what you’ve become.”

He gave a quick flash of a smile, as if he knew something I didn’t. I yawned and stretched a bit, my arm coming over the blanket. I didn’t realize that I’d exposed my shoulder or the purple strap of my bra until I noticed his eyes go to it, then flash back to my face.

“You’re tired,” he said, standing. “I’ll leave you. How much would you like the curtains opened?”

“Just leave them, if you wouldn’t mind,” I said softly, my eyes fluttering closed.

“Goodnight, Mattea.” 

I looked at him then, standing by the door, his eyes locked on mine, his face closed. “Goodnight, Hannibal.”

“No more nightmares, Mattea. You’re safe here.” I nodded and he left the room. 

I was alone with my thoughts. I shifted myself up and unsnapped my bra in the back, slipping the straps down my arms. It ended up on top of the small pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. I laid myself back, not caring about the shooting pain from my ankle under the weight of the blanket. I could sleep. I would be ok here. I shifted to take my pills and rested. I closed my eyes and drifted off.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discovering scars. Mattea has steamy scenes, her writing and other.

My dreams were different. Soft skin grazed a hard body. Fingers and hands brushing down arms, legs, over chests, lower. Soft but demanding lips against mine, a tongue dancing inside my mouth, mine licking teeth. Sweat, heat, passion. Moans, groans, and cries of pleasure. He was everywhere and nowhere. I touched every inch of his body and he explored mine. My head swam with it all. It almost became too much to bear and then . . .

I woke up to the sound of my phone going off on the nightstand beside me. I discovered my crutches were beside the nightstand. Hannibal must have brought them in after I fell asleep. I blushed, hoping I wasn’t indecent when he came in. I also hoped he didn’t notice the bra on the floor, but the end of the crutches were resting in one of the cups, so obviously he had. I silenced my phone and laid back, my eyes to the high ceiling. What a dream. I could almost feel fingers gliding down my body still. I sighed and closed my eyes, shaking my head to clear it.

I sat up, a sharp pain shooting from my ankle. I glanced back over at the nightstand and saw one of my Vicodin beside my water glass. He’d thought of everything, hadn’t he. I leaned over and grabbed the pill, fumbling with it for a minute before I placed it on my tongue. I took the water and swallowed. It was an afterthought if the pain med would affect my writing at all.

I threw the blankets off me, pretty much naked. The sun was starting its climb and I came to the very uncomfortable realization that I hadn’t done anything with my hair before bed. It was bound to be knotted up. Looked like I was taking another shower. I dimly thought that maybe Hannibal might like to help me, then blushed at the thought. What was wrong with me?!

I threw my legs over the edge of the bed and leaned over for the crutches, putting my little feet on the carpet gently. I would be a good patient and use them. They were much easier to use than the damn cart that was bulky and awkward. I crutched myself into the bathroom and over to the toilet. I quickly relieved myself and kicked the panties off onto the ground, then took the wrap off my foot. It was still an angry purple. Hannibal wouldn’t be pleased. The bathroom had a chill to it and I shivered, goosebumps covering my skin. I had a brief flashback to my dream and how his fingers felt as they moved over me. More goosebumps.

“Stop it, Mattea!” I said, scolding myself. I was normally a very rational, levelheaded person and here I was having fantasies about my caretaker. I was a mess.

I stood, then leaned on the crutches as I moved over to the shower. My shampoo and conditioner were still there from yesterday. I rested the crutches against the wall and hopped into the shower, turning it on hot. Steam came from the stream quickly. God, I loved his water heater. I stood under the spray of the shower and leaned against the wall, keeping my foot from touching the ground. I took my time in the shower this time. I had to comb out all the knotting that my jumbled curls had caused. I washed my body slowly, trying not to remember my dream.

It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes before I was in front of the vanity mirror. I wiped the condensation off of it and looked at my reflection. I wasn’t quite so drawn as I had been last night. I wiped the make-up from yesterday off, then moisturized my face and body. After that came the hair. I used a leave-in conditioner to help hydrate my parched curls. I scrunched the product through the curls, leaving no strand unattended, then used the blow dryer to dry it. I decided that I would go for a messy bun today since Hannibal had said we wouldn’t be going anywhere. I piled it up on the top of my head, wrapping it loosely so that tendrils would decorate my face and neck. I put on my easy make-up so I would look a little healthier for Hannibal later. I grabbed my panties and the wrap before I left.

Satisfied with my hair and make-up, I crutched out of the bathroom. I went over to the bed, the towel tight around my body, and pulled a long-sleeved dress the color of emerald green, with matching bra and pantie set and laid them out on the bed. I slowly dressed, taking my time so I didn’t fall, only resting my big toe on the ground. It was awkward, but I got the job done. I glanced at my phone. Seven-thirty. Maybe I could catch Hannibal in the kitchen before he brought up breakfast again.

I sat on the bed and began wrapping my foot. It hurt, but the Vicodin was starting to kick in. I wasn’t as hazy as last night, but it definitely numbed my brain so I didn’t mind so much when I bumped my foot on my hand while wrapping.

There came a knock at my door. Hannibal. He called my name and asked if I was up. I called for him to come in and he poked his head in.

“Good morning, Mattea,” he said brightly. “May I help you with that?”

“Please, I keep bumping it,” I responded. I leaned back on both of my arms on the bed, kicking the pile of clothes under the bed before he could come too close. He knelt beside the bed and rested my leg on his knee like he had yesterday at the doctor’s office.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked and I blushed furiously. Yes, I had slept well. Too well.

“Did you hear any screaming?” I retorted, trying not to think my naughty thoughts.

“No, I did not,” he said, his eyes on what he was doing. He wrapped me tightly enough, frowning at the growing pools of blood in my foot. “We’ll have to elevate and ice today. Can you work in bed or do you need me to get you another chair for your foot?”

“Another chair would be perfect, Hannibal, thank you.” He nodded and brought the boot over. 

“Please, carefully put your foot in the boot,” he instructed. I felt his fingertips brush over my naked leg and goosebumps flooded over me. I didn’t know if he noticed or not, but I sure did. I put my foot in slowly, not bumping it, but putting it firmly into the bottom. He smiled up at me, then looked down to start wrapping the boot around me and strapping it into place. I inflated it around my leg to cushion it.

“Would you like to have breakfast with me downstairs?” he asked, still kneeling and looking up at me.

“I would love to, thank you,” I said. He moved my leg down to the ground and helped me stand, smiling at the fact that I kept my left leg bent and didn’t put any weight on it. He passed me the crutches and I tucked them under my shoulders.

“We’ll get to test out how well you can maneuver the stairs this morning,” he said brightly, opening the door for me and waiting behind me. “If you feel comfortable enough, you might be able to join me for lunch.”

“I’ll be lucky if I can get coffee down, Hannibal,” I said as I swung my body with the crutches. “I don’t know about two meals.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” he spoke, giving me a soft smile. 

We were at the head of the stairs. I looked down them with hesitation. I took a deep breath and took one crutch out from under my left arm and put it in my right hand.

“Just take it easy and go slow,” he directed. “Put the crutch down one stair and then step down with your right foot. Hold onto the rail for extra balance. I’ll walk down in front of you so if you fall, I’ll be there to catch you.”

He stepped down a few steps and turned back to me, one foot a step lower to stabilize himself. I noticed that he was in a royal blue suit with a light blue plaid lining, everything in place from the waistcoat to the royal blue tie around his neck. Damn, he looked good. I shook my head and closed my eyes at the wrong time and slipped. His hands were there around my waist immediately. He braced me so I could get my footing.

“Did you take your pain meds?” he asked. I nodded. “Are you feeling fuzzy like last night?”

“Not as much,” I said. It wasn’t a lie, that just wasn’t the truth. I wasn’t shaking my head to clear the cobwebs as much as the passionate dream I’d had about him. I blushed darkly.

“There’s something else,” he detected, looking up into my burning face. Oh, I was so not going to talk about this with him. But I couldn’t be rude and just not answer him.

“I dreamed last night,” I said, clearly embarrassed. I saw a tick of a smile at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t ask anything else.

We managed to get down the stairs without breaking anything else. I was a bit out of breath and uncomfortable by the time we got down, but I’d done it and with little help from Hannibal. He said he was very proud of me, then let me get myself together and started out to the kitchen. I followed behind him a bit to hang back and watch him walk away.  
Seriously woman! I thought to myself, biting my lip, a shot of pain going through me. Oh, yeah.

“I thought we’d have something light,” he said as he went to his chefy spot. There was already food made. Damn, he must have gotten up very early. “I made quiche. It has the left-over duck liver, some mushrooms, onion, and green peppers in it. There’s enough to finish for lunch if you decide to come down.”

I smiled warmly at him. “I’ll think about it,” I said. “I get lost in my writing, so I may not remember or look at the time. Maybe you could message me and remind me?”

“Or I could just bring some up to you,” he suggested. He grabbed the delicate plates and followed me into the dining room, our same old spots. He put a plate with a small slice down in front of me. He was learning. His slice was much thicker. “How are you feeling this morning, Mattea?”

I sat a little ungracefully in my chair and tucked a stray curl behind my little ear. I picked up my fork and took a quick bite, flavors exploding in my mouth. God, it was so good!  
“I’m ok,” I said after I swallowed. “This is delicious, Hannibal, thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, taking a bite of his slice. “Just ok?”

“I’m a little confused about a few things, but I’ll work it out,” I said honestly. “I always do.” Just normally not about wanting to sleep with someone.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly. He poured some coffee from some strange appliance. It was coffee, but it had to be some sort of French press. I couldn’t figure it out. He poured some cream into mine and handed it to me.

“Not really,” I said shyly, taking a sip. “I really have no idea what’s happening in my own head, but with all the things going on recently, I’m not surprised.”

“Nor am I,” Hannibal said, drinking his own coffee. “I’d be happy to help you deal with things if you’d allow me to.”

“I would rather not become one of your patients,” I said shyly, looking at him through my lashes and blushing. Yeah, because I want to jump your bones, obviously.

“I don’t think there is any way I could move you into the ‘patient’ box,” Hannibal said almost smugly. He had a bright smile on his face and he chewed happily. “I would still be willing to help you sort through the complex emotions that come with the trauma you’ve suffered and continue to suffer.”

I blushed again. He had to have some inkling as to what was going through my head. Did he reciprocate or was it just an amusement to him? My fantasy from last night came back to me and I cleared my throat. The thought of such a light kiss was almost too much for my delicate synapses to compute.

“Thank you, Hannibal,” I said politely. “I’ll consider it.”

“I hope you do,” he replied. “Letting things fester in your mind causes long term damage. I have a feeling you’ve got a lot buried up there. I’d rather not have this be part of it.”

“When does your first patient get here?” I asked, changing the subject.

Hannibal looked at his very tasteful watch and frowned. “In about thirty minutes,” he said. “I’m booked solid until noon, where I’ve freed up about a half hour for lunch. I’d like to spend that with you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

I smiled. “Of course, I don’t mind. I’d love the company and the break. I normally write from first thing in the morning until I go to bed at night. It’s like the story just flows from my brain and through my fingertips. It distracts from everything, including hunger.”

“We’ll have to break you of that habit,” he said, taking another bite. “I like your hair that way.” It was a quick statement said behind his coffee cup, his eyes flickering over the curls on my head.

There I went, blushing again. I reached up unconsciously and touched the thick bun. I tucked a curl behind my ear, only to have it fall back out and tickle along my neck. His eyes watched the movement closely.

“Thank you, Hannibal,” I whispered, taking a deep cleansing breath.

We finished our meal within a few minutes and Hannibal took our plates into the kitchen. I heard the dishes clatter in the sink and saw him emerge a moment later. He told me he’d wash up later that night. 

“You need an extra chair to prop your leg up on today, don’t you?” I nodded. “We’ll get the chair from my writing desk in my bedroom, then. Shall we try the stairs again? It is easier going up than it is down.”

“You promise you won’t let me fall,” I said teasingly.

“I’ll be right behind you,” he reassured me. 

We moved quickly out of the kitchen and into the foyer. The stairs loomed in front of me before long. He was there, his hand on my waist from behind. I stifled a shiver at the touch, but I think he felt it. His face moved close to mine. “Just go up the same way you came down,” he instructed. “Put the crutch under your right shoulder and use your left hand to move up the rail. Don’t you dare put that foot down. You’ve done so well today.” He paused and I heard him inhale. He was smelling me. I couldn’t judge, since I’d been doing the same thing last night. I only hoped he liked what he smelled. I’d hate to offend him.

I did as he instructed, balancing carefully. First one step, then another. I felt him behind me, so close he could almost brush against me. I felt his heat. Suddenly, I hoped that I didn’t look bad from behind and I blushed at the thought, faltering a bit. His hands reached for my waist and he righted me, his touch lingering. We reached the top steadily. He stepped up beside me as I put my crutch under my left shoulder. He smiled at me and turned, walking to his room across the hall from mine. By the time I’d reached my room, he was already positioning the chair he’d taken from his room beside my writing desk.

“I’m sure you’ll adjust it to your liking,” he said, positioning it just right in his opinion. “Please, don’t work too hard. I’ll bring up some ice with lunch.” He stood there and looked at me for a few minutes, his eyes searching my face. Then his hand reached up and tucked a loose curl behind my ear. He let his fingertips trail over my cheek lightly before dropping his hand. He shook his head, then smiled to me, bowing a bit at the waist and then turning to leave.

“Have a good day, Hannibal,” I called after him. He turned at the door and smiled again, then shut the door behind him.

I sighed, alone in the room again. I swung myself over to the writing desk where my computer sat closed and waiting. I set the crutches to the side and sat in my chair. I turned Hannibal’s chair, a deep silver, to the side so I could just put my leg on it and let the boot do the work of keeping my ankle straight. Then I turned to my computer and opened it. Time for work.

I had put my phone next to my computer before I left earlier, also leaving my earbuds beside the computer. I had forgotten about my music yesterday. Too many thoughts. I was worried that my writing had been compromised with the change in routine, so I planned on editing before writing more. It wouldn’t take long. It was only two chapters.

I adjusted myself a bit while taking the earbuds out of their white container, plugging them into my ears. They immediately connected to the Bluetooth on my phone, which I picked up and clicked on my spotify. I selected a playlist that I normally listened to, mostly sad songs, but it worked for me. The music was loud and drowned out the rest of the world. I opened my computer and set to work.

Editing only took two hours, adding and taking away little details, then I began writing a new chapter. I found my heroin and hero in close quarters. I decided to use my dream for good instead of evil and wrote my steamiest love scene yet. I was even breathing a little hard when I finished. Not as much as Hannibal was at my ear suddenly.

I squeaked and jumped, slamming my computer shut. I ripped the earbud out of my right ear and turned in my seat to look up at him. His face was clearly amused. He held a tray of more quiche and coffee.

“Hi, Hannibal,” I gasped out, blushing so hard it made me dizzy. I was awkward and wondered if he’d read any of what I’d written. “Is it noon already?”

“It is,” he said simply, a small smile on his lips. “I knocked but you didn’t answer. I thought it an opportune time to study someone in the midst of what they love doing. You were very compelling, Mattea.”

Oh, my God, he read it! I thought to myself. I closed my eyes and bit my lip hard. I was so embarrassed. I tasted blood and my eyes shot open. I guiltily looked up and saw Hannibal’s eyes locked on my lip. I sucked my lip into my mouth to get rid of the blood and he swallowed hard. I released my lip and his eyes were still glued to it. I could feel another drop well up and he licked his lips.

“I’m so sorry, Hannibal,” I said, reaching up to wipe the blood away. He was beside me in a flash, taking my chin into the palm of his hand. His thumb grazed over my lip. I could feel the blood smeared over it and I heard him sigh. My tongue unconsciously flicked out to lick the blood off and I accidentally licked his thumb. His eyes closed and his jaw clenched. When he opened his eyes, they were wild and fierce. I gasped a bit and he bent at the waist.

“I’m sorry, Mattea,” he whispered against my mouth, then closed his over mine. 

The kiss was exactly what I thought it would be. A soft, hesitant exploration. His tongue danced over my bottom lip a few times, lapping up the blood there. Then his tongue delved into my mouth, gently caressing my tongue with his. I moaned softly into his mouth and felt his hand cup the back of my head, keeping my face close to his while he explored my mouth lazily. The seconds ticked by like hours. It felt like he kissed me forever and I loved every second of it.

He pulled away slowly, his hand still at the back of my head but not pulling me to follow him. His eyes were still wild, searching my face. I could feel his breath, heavy and just a hint of blood on it against my face. He watched me, his other hand feathering his thumb over my jaw line.

“I’m so sorry,” he said breathlessly. “That was terribly rude of me.”

I grabbed his tie and pulled him back down for another kiss, this one more aggressive on both parts. I felt him nibble my top lip lightly and I softly sucked on his lower. He moaned into me, dropping to one knee beside me. His hands went around my back, pulling me closer to him. I was at an awkward angle because of the boot, but we got the job done. His hands explored my back, then went up to my neck and the back of my head, pulling me so much closer into him.

When we parted, only a few inches, I breathed out, “Was that rude of me?”

“Not at all,” he whispered back, his eyes studying mine. “I didn’t think you felt this way about me.”

“I didn’t think you felt this way about me,” I countered. He pushed himself away on his knee a bit, effectively untangling himself from me. I suddenly felt cold without the heat of his body.

“I couldn’t help it,” he said, his eyes staring at nothing, looking away from me. “You just looked so. . . delicious.”

I blushed. “I don’t know about that,” I said with a short laugh. “I’m not sorry it happened, though.” I looked at him then, studying him. He was still looking away, lost in thought. “Are you?”

I couldn’t help but ask. I didn’t understand what was happening with us and I wasn’t sure where I stood with him. His eyes shot up to mine, a frown creasing his brow. He looked over my face, his lips parted.

“No,” he whispered. “I’m not sorry. I’d like to explore this a bit more in the near future with you, if that would be possible.”

I laughed in relief. “I think I would be very ok with that.”

He smiled at me then. His hair was brushed over his brow and I reached to smooth it back into place. He caught my wrist and brought my hand to his cheek. I felt the rough scratch of new stubble there. He ran my hand along his cheek and jaw, his eyes closing. My mouth opened slightly. It was an intimate thing, this touch. It was just my hand along his jaw line, but it felt like so much more. My breath escaped me in a rush. I hadn’t even realized my sleeve had crawled up my forearm.

Hannibal suddenly stopped the moment he opened his eyes. His brow frowned as his eyes read my arm. I suddenly realized what he was seeing and tried to pull my arm back from him. He held it in a vice-like grip. His other hand reached up and smoothed over the scar tissue. Scars crisscrossed my forearm, with deep gouges along my wrist. I had keloid scars, raised and ugly. Keloid and cutters don’t mix well.

“Mattea,” he said softly. He ran his fingertips over every scar he could see, lingering on the slits of my wrist. His eyes looked up to me, a hint of worry there. He hadn’t known. I’d been good about hiding it from him. He never asked why I wore long sleeves, just guessing it to be because of the weather, I’m sure.

“I’m sorry, Hannibal,” I said softly. “It was a long time ago. I haven’t done it in four years. I’ve been sick my whole life.” I was crying softly, the tears trickling down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

He hushed me and leaned up to gather me in his arms. He held me close but not tightly. He wanted me to know I could get away, but I didn’t want to. I cried into his shoulder, turning my face so my make-up wouldn’t stain his jacket.

“You’ve been alone your whole life,” he said, his accent thicker. “You’re not alone now. What made you stop?”

“My niece saw them,” I said, sniffling. “It gets hot in Idaho and I wasn’t expecting visitors. They just showed up and she saw my arms. She was so sad. She cried. I couldn’t do that to her. I had thought I was only hurting myself when I did it, but I was hurting the people who loved me, too. I’m so sorry, Hannibal.”

“Hush, Mattea,” he said soothingly. “You’ve led a traumatic life. Now, I must insist we talk about the underlying reasons you did this, but not right now.” I felt him glance at his watch. He pulled away from me, resting on his heel again. “Tonight. We’ll talk tonight.” He reached up and wiped away my tears. “No more of this. You don’t need to be ashamed of how you coped with a difficult life.”

“Hannibal, please say you forgive me,” I pleaded. I didn’t want him angry with me.

“Of course, I forgive you,” he said with a slight tick at his lips. Just a subtle upturn. “There is nothing to forgive. You dealt with your situation the best way you knew how. You told me your parents were drug addicts and alcoholics, hardly good examples of how to deal with stress. You did the best thing you knew how.”

“Thank you, Hannibal,” I said. He still held my arm and he looked from my face to it. He leaned close in; I felt his breath inside my wrist just before he feathered a kiss across the worst of the scars. He continued kissing my arm gently, his eyes rolling up to look at me, waiting for me to pull away. When I didn’t, he kissed all the way up to my elbow.

“We’ll talk more tonight,” he said into the bend of my arm. Then he pulled back, looking at me full on. “I have a patient in about ten minutes. I need to go. Should I leave the food and come back for it later?”

“No, Hannibal,” I sighed. “I don’t have an appetite. Not for food, anyway.” A corner of his mouth curled up, just one side, and his eyes warmed.

“We’ll talk about that, too,” he promised, standing and moving away. He smoothed his jacket down the front of himself, adjusting his tie and pulling down the waistcoat. He cleared his throat, then stepped closer to me. His hand reached down to my throat, caressing up to my chin, making me look up. He bent at the waist and kissed me again, thoroughly. Lips, teeth, and tongue everywhere in my mouth. He stopped suddenly. I opened my eyes to find him searching mine.

“See you soon,” he whispered into my lips.

I smiled. “See you soon.”

He stood and went to the bench, picking up the tray. He walked to the door and turned and stopped at the door. “I have an appointment with Will this evening. It’s at seven-thirty. We’ll have dinner after. Would you mind staying in your room until then?”

“No, I’m fine here, Hannibal. Thank you.”

He nodded with a soft smile, opened the door and left.

I was left with the aftermath of what had just happened. We had kissed. Kissed! Not just once, but several times. He seemed eager for me in a way that I’d never seen anyone before. He wanted me. It wasn’t just one sided. It was mutual.

Then he saw my scars. Not all of them, but a good sample. I had scars across both arms and my stomach and thighs. I had been a cutter since I was ten and only stopped at twenty-eight. I’d been a cutter for longer than I hadn’t. He was right. It was the only coping mechanism I had at the time. It was a release, a way to ease the internal pain. I’d done it for so long. So long. It still tried to draw me in. I made sure not to have razor blades anywhere near me, another reason I didn’t do my own shopping. The draw was still there, but I fought it off. When I was really stressed, the impulse was stronger, harder to ignore. But I’d made it four years without a single slip. I’d say I was well on my way to recovery.

I sighed. This was all too much. My brain was just haywire. Suddenly, I was very tired. I took a few deep breaths and then tried to move my boot. Pain shot through me. I hissed and glanced at the bench. He’d left a tablet there. Oh, thank God, I thought to myself. I stood slowly, grabbing my crutches and swinging my way to the bench. I swung a little hard and stubbed my toe on the bench’s leg. Damnit!

I sat down, doing the normal step-on-it-harder-to-make-it-feel-better thing. I hissed sharply and ground my foot into the carpet. As if that would feel better. Yeah, go me, right?

I sighed again, glancing down at the tablet beside me. “You make me too high to care, huh?” I said to it. “I guess that’ll work.” I scooped it up, then crutched my way to my glass of water. I swallowed it a minute later. The bed looked so good to me. I pulled back the blankets and rested my crutches against the wall. I climbed into the dark, soft sheets and pulled the blanket up around my shoulders, tucking it under my chin again. Within minutes, I was asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mattea opens up to Hannibal, telling him of her past. Self-harm is described. Child abuse described.

“Mattea,” Hannibal’s voice called distantly. I could feel him petting back the curls on my back. I felt him run his nose across my shoulders, inhaling the whole time. “Mattea, it’s time to wake up. Come on, grazi.” He leaned over me to put a kiss at the base of my neck. I moaned softly, coming to. I sighed deeply and turned to look over my shoulder at him. He kissed my cheek. “Good evening, Mattea.”

“Good evening, Hannibal,” I said, still groggy.

“It’s almost five o’clock,” he said into my ear. “You’ll sleep the day away and be up all night.”

I kind of hope so, I thought to myself. “I thought you were booked until eight-thirty?”

“One of my patients cancelled on short notice, so I thought I’d come and check on you,” he said softly, climbing up onto the bed behind me. He kept running his lips and nose over my neck and shoulder, inhaling softly. It was so distracting.

“Oh, thank you, Hannibal,” I said with a soft frown. I didn’t want to concern or distract him from his work. “You didn’t have to come check on me. I’m ok.”

“But if I didn’t, you would still be asleep,” he whispered into my ear. “You shouldn’t mix up your sleeping habits. They need to be consistent. I’m glad to see you resting, however. You need to do that more.”

“I felt tired after lunch,” I explained. “I took the tablet you left me because my ankle hurt. Then I just crawled into bed. I must have been very tired.” I’d slept for five hours. Straight. No dreams, no interruption. Not even moving. Just five hours of deep sleep.

He brushed the hair across my neck away with his hand, running his fingertips over my skin. I shivered softly against the touch. “You’ve been through a lot in just a few days,” he reasoned with me. “Your mind and your body have been in a fight or flight pattern for most of that time. You’ve exhausted yourself. This won’t do, Mattea. You need to relax. The only person you have to fear here is me.” He kissed my neck again. I smiled.

“I’m ok, Hannibal. You’ve taken excellent care of me. I’ll relax soon.”

“I don’t have long, but I wanted to see if you were alright,” he said again, looking at his watch. “My next patient will be here in twenty minutes. Do you need anything?”

I tilted my head and thought. Did I need anything? I was still groggy and took a deep, cleansing breath. “I’m fine, Hannibal, than you,” I said. 

He smiled against my shoulder, his lips still brushing against my skin. “You always say that, but I have a feeling it’s not entirely true, is it.”

I sighed and rolled my shoulders, down my spine, to my hips. I did it against his body and his hand came to my hip over the blankets. He gripped me and took a long breath in, then sighed against my shoulder. “I need to get downstairs before my patient gets here,” he said in a rough voice. “I can’t have you getting me too excited. I need to go.”

“What did you say before?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” Hannibal responded, sliding down behind me to put his feet on the floor.

“When you were waking me up you said something that I didn’t understand. Was it a different language?”

“Grazi,” he repeated. I nodded, turning to watch him. “It means beauty in my native language. You are grazi.” He reached back and swept the curls that tickled my shoulders back, tucking some behind my ear. I blushed. He really was almost too much.

“Hannibal,” I said softly, “why do you say those things to me?”

He turned to look over his shoulder at me. “I say them because they’re true. I’ll keep saying them until you accept that they’re true.”

I sighed and looked at my hands. “Hannibal,” I started.

“Mattea,” he said, cutting me off. “It’s true. It’s a fact of life and you must accept it. You are beautiful.”

I blushed and glanced at him. He was watching me with those eyes, like a predator watching his prey. I swallowed hard and sighed. “It’ll take time,” I said.

“I’m willing to give it time,” he said slowly.

“You’ll be late, Hannibal,” I said. He looked at his watch and his mouth became a hard line. He had to leave. “I’ll be here when you’re done,” I reassured him. “I’ll wait.”

He leaned in and kissed my cheek, just a light brush over my skin. “I won’t make you wait long,” he whispered in my ear. Then he stood and walked out the door.

I was left to just stare after him. I sat up in bed and kicked my legs over the edge. This was just so intense. I’d only known the man what, two days? How could I be wanting to get hot and heavy with him? This just didn’t happen in real life. How was this my life?

I reached for my crutches, deciding to get back to writing. I moved over to the writing desk and settled in. I put my earbuds back in, setting an alarm on my phone for eight o’clock. He wouldn’t take me by surprise again. Not like that, at least. He may surprise me yet with other things.

I threw myself back into my novel. Using some of the heat I had in my own life, I spiced up the rest of the love scene in my book. There was always one, sometimes subtle, sometimes not. It was always a toss-up with my books. This one was far from subtle. But there were always consequences. There were always repercussions to one’s actions. I wrote it out, step by step, thinking about what kind of repercussions would happen if Hannibal and I finished what we had started at lunch.

My alarm went off at eight and I took a deep breath. I turned off the alarm and my spotify, putting my earbuds back in their case to charge for tomorrow. I knew Hannibal would be up soon and I braced myself for it. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. There were so many possibilities. We could talk or we could do. . . other things. I wasn’t sure what would happen. I stood with the crutches, moving over to my bench to sit and wait. The lamp on the writing desk was the only light on in the large room. It illuminated most of it, leaving long shadows along the walls. I waited. It wasn’t long before I heard him coming up the stairs. His pace was brisk and clipped. He was in a hurry. For what, though?

He knocked politely at my door and called my name. I called back for him to come in and the door opened. He’d opened his jacket and waistcoat, his tie pulled down and the top button of his shirt was undone. He looked casual, calm. His lips were turned up and his eyes were bright. He took me in as I sat on the bench, hands in my lap, my head tilted to the side.

“You haven’t been sitting there like that all evening, have you?” he asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

“No,” I answered. “I came here to wait for you.”

“Wait for me?” he asked, stepping inside the door, slowly approaching me.

“Yes, I decided not to be surprised again, though the last surprise was quite nice,” I smirked. He gave me an answering smile. “How were your appointments?”

“Will is a troubled mind,” he said, sitting down next to me. “I’m afraid I can’t give you much more than that. He’s a complex case and I’m working through it with him.”

“I’m sure you’ll help him the best way you can,” I said, rubbing my arm against his shoulder. “Are you ready for your day to be over?”

“My day is far from over,” he said as his hand reached to cover mine. “You and I have a much to go over.”

“Hannibal,” I started. “I don’t want to be one of your patients.”

“You never will be,” he comforted. “You are far from my patient box. You are so much more than that. There will be even more if you want it.”

I looked at him then. Turning my body to face him as best I could around the boot. I watched his face, he watched mine. His hand still held mine in my lap and he gave them a gentle squeeze. 

“Mattea,” he said slowly. “You’ve been keeping secrets. It’s time that you let them out and see where that leaves us.”

“I don’t want it to leave us in a bad place,” I said almost desperately. “It’s a lot of bad and not very much good. I don’t know how we can overcome that.”

He pulled me in and tucked me under his arm. My left arm went around his waist in the back, my right hand resting on his thigh. He kissed the top of my curls, then buried his face in their softness, smelling me, then resting his cheek on top of my head. 

“We can overcome because we know that your past does not dictate your future,” he said softly, his accent making it sound like poetry. “You have overcome your past; you just haven’t dealt with it yet.”

“I can’t remember it, Hannibal,” I said. “I only have bits and pieces of it, not a clear picture. Just shadows.” 

“I can help you remember it, if you’d like.”

“No, Hannibal,” I stopped him. “I forgot for a reason. I don’t want to remember it. The nightmares are memory enough.”

“Yes, what makes you scream in the night?” he asked.

I took a deep breath. Yes, we were really going there. I closed my eyes and let the air flow out of me slowly.

“My parents divorced when I was a year old,” I began. He pulled me out from under his shoulder to watch me as I explained. “My mother had a lot of boyfriends, basically being passed around through the biker club that they were members of. She finally landed on one when I was three. We moved in with him quickly, just like with all the others. He wasn’t like the others. He liked me more than he liked my mother. They didn’t know exactly what happened, just pieced it together from x rays and things that I said while I was in my coma. The breaks were anywhere between days to months old. I never told anyone about them, too afraid of what would happen to my family.”

I paused, taking in a deep breath and dropping my eyes. I felt his finger under my chin and I brought my eyes up. Then his hand went to capture mine it it’s warm embrace.

“Monsters use a child’s love to cover their own hides,” he said simply. “You are not to blame. Continue, please.”

“It took months for anyone to catch on,” I said after another sigh. “One night, I bit him when he was trying to force me.” I shivered and Hannibal feathered his thumb over my knuckles. “When I bit him, he got mad and picked me up. I was so small. Just a baby. He threw me against the wall, cracking my skull. My mother found me in a pool of my own blood. She freaked out and insisted that they take me to the hospital. There, they took off my nightgown. They found handprints all over me. Deep, dark bruises. How could a mother not see bruises like that on her child?”

“Sometimes the heart won’t let the brain see,” he answered me. “She couldn’t see your markings because she didn’t want to believe the worst in her lover.”

“They found so many breaks,” I whispered. “I was too small for him to do much, but he did enough. My aunt told me that once I was out of the hospital, I put a chocolate cookie on the table and told her that he put it in my mouth and it was ‘yucky’.”

I watched him, saw it dawn on him what had been done to me as punishment. His face darkened and he reached to pull me into his chest. A tear I didn’t know I had spilled down my cheek. He hushed me and rocked me, smoothing his hands over my back and arm. He murmured soft nothings to me as he comforted me and let me cry. He didn’t try to stop me, just allowed me to feel what I felt. I cried for a while, softly, silently. I cried for my own dark childhood and my broken past. I cried for my recent trauma. Then I just cried to cry.

It was a while before I stopped. Hannibal had held me closely and rocked me gently the whole time. I pulled away gently, searching his face. Did he think I was dirty? Damaged goods, just like my family had thought. I searched for disgust. For pity. I found a blank slate with golden eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked me.

I nodded. “Are you?”

He smiled at me then. “It wasn’t my trauma that we discussed,” he said. “It was yours. Did you let it all out, all the pain you’ve collected over the years?”

“Oh, Hannibal,” I said miserably, “that’s only the beginning.”

He pulled me into another hug. “What happened to this man who hurt you when you were so young?”

“He died,” I said simply. Hannibal stilled for a moment, some emotion I didn't understand there. “He was found shot in the face by a rifle twice. They said it was suicide.”

“That’s a shame,” he said, “to be let off so easily after torturing you for so long. Are you angry to be denied your justice?”

“I never really thought of it like that,” I answered thoughtfully. “He died while I was still in a coma. He left a note admitting to what he did, though not in detail. He just said that he hurt me and that he liked doing it. He said this was the only way he’d stop. It takes talent to pull the trigger when you’re already dead.”

“Yes, I believe it does,” Hannibal responded, pulling away to look at me. “But how do you still feel about him? Do you hate him for what he did to you?”

“No,” I said with a sigh. “He was sick. Very sick. Sick people need help and he never got it. I keep hoping that people can come back from whatever they do. I’ve seen some instances. It gives me hope. I’ve forgiven him for what he did to me.”

“Yet you still cry over your lost childhood,” he observed.

“My childhood died at his hands, and he died at someone else’s. I’d say it’s a fair trade.”

“I don’t,” he said simply. “You were tortured, even though you don’t remember it. Your tiny child body was beaten, broken, and victimized. He should have suffered for what he did to you.” He looked over my shoulder, his eyes going distant. I wondered what he was thinking of.

“Hannibal,” I said softly, bringing his attention back to me. “That’s not the whole reason why I did what I did.”

“I know,” he sighed. “But it’s enough for tonight. What should we have for dinner? It’s a bit late, but we can eat something.”

“It’s always food with you, isn’t it, Hannibal?” I laughed. He smiled at me and nodded.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They give in to their desires. NSFW

Dinner was consumed. I managed to eat all of it. It was a complex French dish that I couldn’t remember, but he said it was pork loins for the meat. It tasted great, just not quite like pork. Maybe it was the spices. We sat and talked over dinner, then wine again in his office. He was careful not to give me too much wine and I didn’t ask for a pain killer. I would probably need it later, but I didn’t want it to dull my senses. I had a feeling I’d be needing those.

We talked about many things. He told me a little about how he grew up in an estate in Lithuania with his little sister, whom he loved dearly. He told me he was heartbroken when he found out she died. I told him a little about how my family shunned me after my abuse. He said he was sorry and that a child shouldn’t ever be made to feel so alone. I could tell that a part of him knew what I felt. I didn’t want to delve too deeply. I didn’t want him to pull away.

Hannibal glanced at his watch. “It’s gone eleven-thirty,” he said, looking over to me. “I should get you to bed. It’s only Thursday, after all. We still have another workday ahead of us.”

I smiled softly. “To my bed or somewhere else?” I asked.  
His smile widened. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.” He stood, collecting the wine glasses and the empty bottle. “I’ll be right back,” he said and turned to walk out of the room.

I opted to stay where I was. My ankle was throbbing and seriously tender. I was tired from an emotional day. I really didn’t want to move anywhere. I scooted down in the chair to rest my head on the back and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath and sighed. I was at peace here, for the first time since my attack, I was at peace.

I didn’t hear Hannibal come back in. He was just suddenly there, smoothing my curls back from my face. His touch was light and soft. It didn’t startle me at all, it just was. I heard him bend at the waist and lean down, brushing his lips against mine gently. His hands smoothed down my neck to the neckline of my dress, a wide oval that showed my collar bones.

“I love you in green,” he whispered against my lips. Then his mouth became more demanding, his tongue delving deeply into my mouth. I struggled to keep up with him, feeling his hand resting around my throat. He broke the kiss just as suddenly and scooped me up. “I won’t have the patience for you to go up the stairs yourself tonight, Mattea.”

He moved quickly, opening doors and flicking off lights as he went. We were moving quickly up the stairs in no time. At the top, he took me to his bedroom door. He looked deeply into my eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked.

I nodded slowly. “Yes, Hannibal, I’m sure.” Then he all but kicked in the door.

We were on his king-sized bed before I knew it. He’d stretched me out under him, slipping one slack-covered leg between mine and balancing himself on his elbows. He smoothed my loose curls away from my face and kissed my chin. He covered me completely and I couldn’t see anywhere in the room around him. I knew there was a dim light on the nightstand next to a digital clock. He kissed down my throat and distracted me when he licked my pulse. I moaned for him, encouraging him. I felt his fingers brush my stomach through my dress, just a light touch. Nothing exploratory yet. I writhed under him, arching my back and bending back my head to give him better access. He moved down to my collar bone, nibbling it softly, almost playfully. Almost. I felt his hot breath on the skin of my chest and I gasped for air.

“Hannibal,” I moaned. He raised his head so I could look him in the eye. “We don’t have much time tonight. Shouldn’t we move things along.”

“Oh, no Mattea,” he said, breathless. “I intend to take my time with you. I intend to explore every inch of you.”

“Hannibal, there are more scars to be found,” I warned, afraid it would cool the passion.

“I know, and I will kiss every one of them,” he replied. I felt his fingers then, pulling up the edge of my dress. His hand was just above my thigh on my left leg. He had been very cautious about moving around my ankle. He was trying not to hurt me. “I will taste you, Mattea, all of you,” he promised.

Then I felt his fingers against the naked skin of my thigh. Breath left me in a huff and I found it difficult to draw another in. His touch was light, smoothing against the skin of my thigh. No doubt he felt the scars there under his soft fingertips. He traced them, slowly going higher. I opened my leg to him, spreading it as wide as the boot would allow, my other leg trapped under his weight.

“Slow down, Mattea,” he whispered against my chest, his face nuzzling my breast lightly. “We have all night.” His mouth kissed my breast through the fabric of my bra and my dress, but I still felt the searing heat. He pulled the dress up until he felt the lace of my pantie line, then stopped, running his fingers from my hip and tracing them over the edge of the fabric until he was so close to my burning core that I moaned for him.

“I love hearing that sound,” he said, his accent so thick I could barely understand him. His breathing was heavy and his touch was light. Suddenly, he pushed himself up to kneel, his legs over my right leg. I looked into his wild eyes, saw passion there. He’d lost his tie, waistcoat, and jacket downstairs before he started cooking. Now, he reached up to the second button of his shirt and slowly began to undo them, one by one. I watched the movement, licking my lips. His eyes flickered down to my mouth, his opening slightly. 

My hands were above my head, giving him full access to any part of me. My breath was heavy and I undulated under him. As he unbuttoned his shirt, I felt myself grow warmer. His chest was slowly coming into view. I don’t know if he took his time to tease me or himself. Once he did the last button, he slowly pulled his shirt from his shoulders and threw it onto the floor. His body was lean and muscled, not overly so. He stayed kneeling, letting me look my fill. His skin was a perfect light golden brown, his nipples in hard peaks. I reached for him and he dutifully came to me, his mouth slanting over mine, his lips greedily feeding at mine. His tongue twined with mine and his right hand cupped my face, holding me just where he wanted me. His touch was gentle, but I felt him thrust slightly against my thigh and I couldn’t help but run my hands over his lightly muscled shoulders. I felt them work under my fingertips. I let my nails graze his skin gently and he rewarded me with a moan.

His mouth pulled away from mine, gently kissing over my cheek to nibble at my jaw line. Those light bites continued down my neck to my chest. I felt his hand go back to my hip, clenching the fabric of my dress and pulling it up, exposing the lace of emerald green that were my panties. He kept kissing my chest and kept pulling my dress up until it was just below my breast. His hand splayed over my stomach, felling every hill and valley that was my skin. His hand was so big that it almost entirely covered my stomach. Then his hand went lower to rim the top of my panties, teasing me. I shivered under him and he groaned.

My hands traced from his shoulders up to his hair, burying them in those soft light brown locks. I combed my fingers through the short lengths and he came back up to feed at my mouth. He bit my lower lip lightly, then his tongue smoothed over it. 

“Hannibal, please,” I begged into his mouth. “I can’t take much more. I’m going to melt.”

I felt him smile against my lips. “Melt for me,” he whispered. He then pulled away, back up to his knees. He saw me then, the dress pulled up to just below my breast on one side. He looked over my thigh, his fingers tracing a deep scar. He tilted his head and looked at the deep cuts across my stomach. His eyes flicked up to mine and I saw something dance behind his eyes, some emotion I didn’t understand. His hands went to the other side of the dress, bring it up, lightly jerking the fabric under me until it was all pulled over my head. His breath was heavy as he took in the matching emerald lace that held my most secret parts. 

“Grazi,” he whispered. I lay there half naked and I shivered without his warmth over me. My skin burst out in goosebumps. He ran his hand down my stomach, reading me as the blind read brail.

“Please, Hannibal,” I pleaded again.  
He moved then, his knees reaching over my boot to stand beside the bed. He watched me, eyes hooded, mouth parted. His hands went to his belt and slowly unbuckled it. He left it in the loops of his slacks while his fingers went to the button and zipper. My breath caught in my throat as I watched him push his slacks down his legs. He wore black boxer briefs under them. I could see him straining against them. I could tell he was slightly larger than what was considered normal, but not overly so. He must have kicked off his shoes and then his slacks before he climbed back onto the bed, this time sliding between my legs.

“I love you in green,” he whispered again against my mouth before he took it with his. I could feel his elbows on either side of my head, holding his weight off of me to keep from smothering me while he kissed me. His hands cupped my face while lacing his fingers through my hair. He was all controlled need while my hands ran over his back, tracing the strained muscles there. I could feel the roughness of the hair on his chest and stomach scratch against my skin. I moaned for him, kissing him back as if my life depended on it.  
He pulled away, looking over my face while his fingers, still laced through my hair, gently traced the contours of my cheeks and jaw. He didn’t speak, his breath dancing over my skin.

“I’m not sure if I can tease either of us much further,” he admitted. I closed my eyes and rocked my hips against his lower stomach, hooking my leg around his back and pulling him close. He groaned and closed his eyes, throwing his head back as my nails raked softly over the skin of his back. He looked back to me, eyes growing darker with passion. “Especially when you do that.” His hand went from my face to cup my right thigh and bring it further up his back, my boot making it hard for me to hook him much higher than his thigh. Still, I knew he wouldn’t let me take it off. Too much risk of hurting me, though he moved carefully and slowly above me. I felt him thrust again against me and I gave him a mewling sound, my eyebrows coming together and my eyes closing.

He sat up again, his eyes going from my bra to my panties. He hooked one finger from the underside and the other to the waist of the left side. He glanced up at me and said, “I’ll buy you a new pair.” Then he jerked, a wet ripping sound echoing in the silent bedroom. He ran his hand over my hip bone, caressing the newly exposed skin. Then his fingers drew in, tracing the top of my smooth mound. I didn’t shave for aesthetic purposes; it was more hygienic in my opinion. His breath whooshed out of him in a deep sigh. His left hand went to the other side and slowly pulled it down, exposing me. He moaned when my wet folds came into view, his right hand going to trace their lines. He pulled the ripped panties down my right leg, bringing up my foot to his shoulder, then tossed the panties somewhere to his left. He kissed my right ankle, his tongue licking over the sensitive skin there. I writhed for him, making his fingers at my moist entrance rub over my clitoris. I gasped at the contact.

“Take off your bra, or I’ll rip it off you,” he warned. I nodded and propped myself up on my elbows, reaching behind me to fumble with the clasps. It didn’t take me long before I was sliding the straps down my arms. I heard his breath catch as my breasts came into view. He ran his left hand up my right leg and came down over me, tucking my leg behind his back. He buried his face between each breast. My arms went to circle his head, cradling him against me. His lips searched the skin, moving first to my left breast. I felt his hot mouth close over my nipple and pull strongly at it. My back arched and I cried out.

“Hannibal!” I gasped out. His mouth moved over to my right and repeated the process, his tongue flicking over the stiff peak. My hands clawed lightly at his shoulders, his skin smooth across his back. I felt him smile against my breast and he pushed off me again. He knelt between my legs and his hands went to his waist band. His thumbs hooked the band and pulled down and he sprang out over the top. He was thick and heavy. I was surprised to see that he manscaped. He didn’t shave it all, just trimmed the light blond hair up nicely. I reached down and cupped his length and he threw his head back and groaned for me. He didn’t pull his boxer briefs down further than his knees and that was just fine with me as I stroked him slowly.

He fell over me then, capturing my right arm under his body, my hand still grasped around him. I felt the scratch of his hair against my wrist. He kissed me again, tongue delving deep, licking my teeth. 

“Guide me in,” he whispered against my lips. His accent made it sound like something exotic. I pulled his shaft gently until I felt the tip of him meet my slick folds. He shifted up, his chest pressed against my face and slowly, oh, so slowly, pushed inside me.

It had been so long since I had done anything like this. He filled me so completely that I cried out against his chest. His arms went around me, hands in my hair and he gently cradled me against him, thrusting deep. He moaned against my hair.

“Oh, Mattea,” he whispered, holding himself still, allowing me to adjust to his length and girth. “You wrap around me like a silky vice. You feel so good to me.”

“Hannibal,” was all I could get out, pulling my hand free from our bodies and running my fingertips up his side. My other hand reached up to his shoulders and pulled him close. My leg wrapped around his hips and pulled him in deeper.

He started to move then, pulling back so my face wasn’t pressed against his chest. Slowly out, then pushing back in deeply. He opened his eyes and searched my face as he moved above me. My eyes rolled up into my head and my mouth was open, panting gently. I felt his lips gently kiss over my forehead, right along the hairline. He smelled my hair deeply and moved slowly inside me. I felt a fine shiver go through him as I clenched myself around him.

He grunted. “If you do that too much, Mattea, I won’t last long,” he warned. I smiled against his chest, licked his hair, teeth gently nibbling against his nipple when I found it. He shuddered and pushed so deep, his legs shifting to move more freely inside me.

I felt every ripple, every valley, every curve to him inside me. I could feel myself winding tightly inside my belly. I thrust my hips up to meet him, my hands settling against his back, nails grazing softly. He moved slightly faster, holding my head to his chest gently. 

“Hannibal, I’m close,” I moaned, holding onto him tighter. His arms clenched against me but didn’t force my head against him. He was careful not to smother me, to hold his body over mine.

“Mattea, yes,” he whispered.

My moans became cries and my cries grew louder. They echoed off the walls. He moved faster, plunging into me. His back grew slick with sweat, our bodies sliding together, melting together. I gasped as I felt that rubber band tighten inside of me. I was desperate for him, moving against him, thrusting up to meet him every time. I cried out against his skin, my hands now clawing at his arms around my head. He clenched tighter.

Then the world burst apart. It was as if my body exploded and I was everywhere and nowhere. I was both inside myself, feeling him move faster, and outside looking down at the two of us moving together. He grunted my name and clenched my head, clutching me close. His movements were fast and deep. 

When he cried out, he threw his head back. I felt him jerk inside of me, once, twice, three times. Over and over, his body slowing and twitching above me. He kept pushing until he relaxed against me. He held me closely for a moment, then pulled back, leaning on his left elbow and his right hand going to move the sweaty curls away from my face. My body was heavy with bliss and my legs fell open to his sides. I slowly opened my eyes, my breath still coming in pants. My throat was dry and I looked to his face. He was studying mine, eyes flickering over every detail, as if seeing me for the first time.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly. “Did I hurt you?”

I smiled gently to him, my hand coming up to trace the rough stubble of his cheek and jaw. “I’m very good right now,” I answered slowly. “Thank you, Hannibal.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Manners even now,” he said. “You really are a perfect creature.” He shifted his weight and I felt him slip a bit from me. “I’m afraid there is going  
to be a mess. You lay here while I go to the bathroom and get something to clean up with.”

I clenched myself around him and his eyes closed while he hissed. “I think I can hold it in,” I said with a grin.

“I believe you,” he retorted, kissing my lips lightly. He pushed himself up on his arms, pushing himself deeper inside me again. It was my turn to close my eyes and hiss. “I can do it, too,” he said, clearly pleased with himself.

He slowly pulled out of me, still hard and twitching. I made a mewling sound as he pushed off of me and slid out completely. It was so cold without his warm body around me. I could feel something trickling out of me and I clenched down so it didn’t get on the blankets. He went to his bathroom and flicked on the light. I heard water running for a moment and then he entered the room again. He bounced with every step and I couldn’t help but watch, my eyes locked on him. He stopped by the bed and watched me for a just a minute or two, waiting for my eyes to travel up his body and meet his gaze.

“You like what you see?” he asked with a smug smile.

“Very much,” I answered. I reached for him and he leaned down. He had a small, white soft, wet fabric in his left hand. He put his right hand by my head and leaned down to slant his mouth over mine. He explored my mouth and suddenly, I felt the warm washcloth against my mound, slowly wiping over me. I thrust my hips up and gasped against his mouth. He cleaned me thoroughly, making sure he got whatever he could, and I quivered under him.

“Still so sensitive,” he whispered into my mouth. “I’ll have to remember that for next time.” I shuddered at the thought of “next time”. This time had been a slow exploration. I wondered what “next time” held in store for me.

He then moved the washcloth away from me and leaned up, using it to clean himself off, slowly deflating. He walked back into the bathroom to rinse out the cloth and I enjoyed the view of him as he went. 

The room was suddenly so cold, and I began to shiver. When he returned, he noticed me covering myself and shaking lightly. “You’re cold,” he observed. He stopped at his bench and pulled a gray throw from it, fuzzy and soft, and draped it over my naked body. He then sat next to me and put my boot in his nude lap. “Just relax, Mattea,” he said as he started to unstrap the boot. He glanced at the clock an raised his eyebrows, making me look. It was past one in the morning!

“Oh, Hannibal, I didn’t mean to keep you up so late,” I said apologetically. My eyes went to his face and saw him smiling as he pulled open the Velcro of my boot, exposing my leg and ankle. 

“I’m afraid I kept you up so late,” he retorted. He gently lifted my foot out of the boot and rested it in his lap. His eyes met mine. He was calm, almost sleepy looking. He turned his head slightly, his eyes moving over my body. “I’m afraid it’s too late to repeat the process.” His fingers reached up and caressed my cheek. “Regrettably.”

“That’s ok,” I said softly. “We have tomorrow, I’m sure.”

He stood then, gently placing my ankle on the bed. He faced me and my eyes wandered. “You need your meds,” he observed. “I’ll go collect them and bring them in here. I’ll also get your pain med and bring it to you. Don’t move.” He then turned and left the room, naked as the day he was born.

I was left alone in his room. I took a few moments to look around. It was all blue and silver. There was a velvet bench at the foot of the bed with a round pillow lining seam of the bench against the bed. Just beyond it two chairs by a large fireplace with a glass table between them. There was a mirror to my right, then the door to the bathroom, still open with the light on. A dresser just to the right of the door, probably oak. The room was painted the same color of blue as the blankets with slanted ceilings. It was a big, beautiful room.

It wasn’t long before the door opened and Hannibal came back in, pill bottles cradled in his arms and a glass of water in his left hand. He paused at the door and looked me over.

“You look perfect on my bed,” he said, moving around to place my pill bottles on the nightstand beside me. “We need to get you in the bed before you freeze.” He smiled to me and reached for me. I pulled my arms out from under the blanket, modestly keeping it over my chest. He raised me up to a sitting position, then pulled the blankets out from under the pillows and down to my hips. “Don’t put any weight on your ankle,” he directed softly. “Just lift yourself enough for me to pull the blankets down." 

I did as he instructed, using my right leg to take my weight on and bending my left leg at the knee, keeping my ankle over the bed. He pulled the blankets back, so the soft sheets met my bare skin when I sat back down. I kept myself propped up on my arms and watched him draw the blankets further down. I saw that the sheets were a silver gray and they were as soft as the sheets in my room. I lifted my right leg as he pulled them down so I could tuck my feet under them. He then pulled them back up, drawing the throw away from my body as he tucked the blankets around my waist. His finger traced the curve of my breast and I shivered.

“So responsive,” he said, almost marveling. He took a moment to run that finger up over my collar bone and to my neck, watching it as it moved. I saw his eyes grow hooded again and he began to respond between his legs. I nibbled my lip lightly and felt my pulse race. Was it too late for another round?

He suddenly shook his head, his hair flying over his brow. He closed his eyes tightly and frowned. “Take your medicine, Mattea,” he said in a soft order. “Do you want any clothes from your room before we go to sleep?” I shook my head, turning onto my left side and reaching for each bottle, pouring out my doses. I heard more than saw him move around to the other side of the room and heard dresser drawers open and close. I heard cloth over skin and a light snap at the end. As I swallowed my pills, I glanced over to see him in a new pair of boxer briefs walking towards the bed. “Insurance that I don’t find my way back into you in the night,” he explained as he pulled back the blankets on the right side of the bed. He slid up next to me, slipping behind me and running his lips and nose over my skin, inhaling again.

“You smell so delicate,” he said against the back of my neck, planting a kiss there. “I can smell myself on you. We mix very well.”

“Hannibal stop or you’ll have me tearing off your underwear next,” I warned, shivering under the light touch. He chuckled against the back of my neck and slid back, his left arm hooking under me. He pulled me so that my back was tucked tightly against his front. His right arm came around my waist and his hand tucked around under me, making sure I was locked along the front of him.

“Go to sleep, Mattea,” he whispered into my ear before he kissed it. “I’m here and you’re safe.”

I felt my eyes get heavy. I was very tired. I snuggled back into him and he squeezed his arms a bit, flexing his muscles. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

My dreams were troubled. Flashes from my past flickering behind my eyes. I fought against them, not wanting them to engulf me. I panicked and ran, the hall so dark and long. Doors opening as I ran and showing me more images of my past. I cried and ran faster.

Then there were lips at my neck and a soft murmuring at my ear. Hannibal’s voice echoed in the dark. I fought to get closer to the sound of him, knowing there was safety there. I felt his fingers brush the side of my face, tucking my hair behind my ear. He was telling me to wake up, wake up. He was calling to me.

I sat up slightly with a gasp. Hannibal was there, right behind me, his right arm between my breasts over the blankets and his hand cradling my face.

“Hush, Mattea,” he whispered, pulling me down against him again. “You’re safer here with me than anywhere else. The only thing you need to fear is me. Nothing else will touch you.” They were promises. He was promising me safety. I felt his lips kiss my ear, then over my cheek to my lips. He took them gently, just a light kiss. 

“Hannibal, I’m sorry,” I said against his mouth. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” Then the alarm went off to the right of me distantly.

“It’s time to get up anyway,” he said softly, kissing my cheek again before he left me to turn off the alarm. I glanced at the clock that was beside me. It was six-thirty. No wonder he always had the jump on me. He came back to me and kissed me softly again. “Are you ready for another day?”

I sighed and nodded. “I need to shower,” I said with a sigh. I could feel something sticky between my legs.

“We both do,” he said with a light smile. “I think we’ll shower together this morning. I’ll go fetch your toiletries bag.”

He almost bounced out of bed. Obviously, a morning person. Either that, or he was in a great mood from last night. I watched him walk out the door over my shoulder and saw him disappear, leaving the door open behind him. I could hear him open my door and then silence. He came back only moments later, my shampoo and conditioner in one hand and my bag in the other. He didn’t have my hair dryer, but I was certain I could get to it before my hair started to frizz. He brought the bag into his bathroom and I heard the water turn on a moment later, then he was emerging through the doorway.

“Are you ready?” he asked. I nodded and shifted myself up. I threw the blankets off of me, hissing a bit when I accidentally jerked the blankets across my banged up ankle and pulling at my foot. He was suddenly beside my side of the bed, his hand going to my foot and resting it on the edge of the bed. He slowly, carefully unwrapped it, frowning at the angry bruising.

“I didn’t bring up your crutches last night, so I’ll carry you to the shower,” he said slowly. He looked at my eyes, searching for denial. After a moment, he nodded and scooped me up from the bed. It was like I weighed nothing to him. He cradled me in his arms and kissed the side of my face as he walked into the bathroom. 

It was set up the same way as my bathroom. The shower was running on the right side of the room. He put me gently down beside the glass door, watching to make sure I didn’t put weight onto my foot. He smiled to himself, then bent to take off his gray boxer briefs, leaving them in a pile beside the shower. Then he opened the door and turned to me, slowly turning me to face him. He reached to put my arms around his shoulders, then bent to lift me up, my face level with his. He stepped us into the steamy shower, his lips gently kissing mine. He had his back to the water and shut the door behind us.

He shifted a bit so the water fell on me, warm and refreshing. “Is this too hot for you?” he asked. I shook my head and he turned us so the water fell over my lower back and down my body, my feet still off the floor. He placed me down slowly, sliding my body down the front of his. I could feel him hardening against my belly as he bent to kiss me. His hands went up to unpin my hair. I don’t know where the pins went, but he set them somewhere. His hands then went through my curls as they tumbled down to tickle my hips, his mouth never leaving mine. I felt his fingers fork through my hair, combing it and smoothing it down my back. His tongue came and licked my lips, then he sucked my lower lip into his mouth, biting it gently.

“You have so much hair,” he said. He lifted me again and put me further under the water. I felt it crawl up my spine, wetting my hair as it went. He set me down with the water at the crown of my head. He pulled his mouth from mine and continued to smooth my hair down my back. He was hard and ready against my belly when he bent to reach for my shampoo. He poured a generous amount into his hands and put down the bottle. He then turned me slowly, so the water sprayed over my face. I tilted my head down, feeling his hands work the shampoo into my hair, starting at the tips and gathering it up. He worked the shampoo through my hair scalp to tip, gently massaging it. I could feel him close behind me, but not close enough that our bodies touched. He took his time before turning me to rinse, his mouth finding mine again. I felt him work the shampoo out, clenching and squeezing the water from my hair as his tongue explored my mouth. I leaned into him, feeling his hardness strain against my stomach. My hands reached around to his back, clutching him close to me, trapping him between our bodies. I felt him moan into my lips.

“We don’t have time for that if I’m to make you breakfast, Mattea,” he chastised lightly against my lips. He lifted me and pulled me back from the water, the spray hitting me at my shoulders. Then he turned me again and I felt the water caress my chest and body as he grabbed my conditioner. I heard the snap of the lid, then the light thump as he put the bottle back down.

He slowly worked the conditioner through my hair and I ran my hands along my body. He combed his fingers through each strand, ridding it of knots and tangles. He was gentle about it, like he was petting me. I felt him step up behind me, pressing his body along my back, his hands reaching to cup my breasts lightly. He hugged me to him before releasing me. I heard the snap of my body wash open, then the thump when he set the bottle down. The soft scent of a summer thunder storm filled the air and his hands came to the front of me again. His hands were slick with soap as he explored every inch, every crevice of my body. He washed me slowly and delicately, the water rinsing the soap from me in the next instant. It was like I was something precious to him as his fingers moved. His hands moved to the curve of my hip and back, fingertips slipping between my cheeks and down the back of my legs. He left a small kiss along the skin of my hip before standing again.

He turned me again and began rinsing the conditioner from my hair in the same slow, gentle way. He watched my face, our eyes locking as he did it. His lips were parted and his breath heavy. I suddenly had an image of him pressing me up against the tiled wall of the shower, lifting me and sliding himself inside of me. The image was so strong that I felt something shift inside me and I closed my eyes, dropping my head back. His lips found my exposed neck, licking, kissing, and gently nibbling along it’s line. I gave a throaty moan for him as I felt his hand grasp my cheek tightly, his other hand on my upper back, keeping me standing.

“We haven’t got much time,” He whispered against my jaw. “You’re clean. I’ll take you to the vanity to start getting ready and I’ll finish up in here.” I nodded, my eyes still closed as he took me into his arms again, lifting me up and his mouth slanting over mine again. He kissed me deeply as he moved, and I had the brief sensation of moving out of the hot shower into the cool room. 

He placed me down and rested my hip against the vanity, the cold of the marble top sending a chill through me. He pulled away and moved to grab a towel to wrap around me. He tucked it in securely down my cleavage. He gave me a wicked smile and a wink.

“There are more towels if you need them,” he said, moving away to what looked like a closet.

“Yes, if I could have one for my hair, that would be wonderful,” I said softly, still leaning against the vanity. My ankle was shooting pain through me and I didn’t want to put it down. He retrieved another towel for me and handed it to me. He gave me one last look before turning and getting back into the shower.

Alone for the most part, I pulled my hair out from the towel that was around my body, then flicked it over my head, holding onto the counter to steady me. It was very heavy when wet and I wrapped the other towel around my head, lifting it up and over my back. I turned to the vanity and wiped the steam from it. I had a rosy glow to my face, something that was new. I wasn’t sure if it was from the heat of the shower or the heat between Hannibal and me. I used the towel around my body to dry my face and neck, then pulled it open to dry my back and legs, finishing by buffing it over my front. I pulled it back around and secured it by tucking it just over my left breast.

From behind me, I heard the shower turn off. I glanced over my shoulder to see the door opening and a wet, naked Hannibal step out. I nibbled my lip lightly and watched him cross the bathroom to the closet to retrieve a towel for himself. He stood with his back to me as he buffed it over his chest and down his stomach. I remembered their feel under my fingertips and left my hands tingling for that touch again. He rubbed the towel over his hair, clenching his cheeks at the movement and I felt something low tighten. I had to stop looking. 

I turned back to the mirror and grabbed my bag. I fished through it and found my moisturizer. I applied some to my lightly damp skin and rubbed it in slowly. I heard him toweling off behind me and tried to focus on my face. I grabbed my brown eye shadow pallet and started applying it to my eyelids with my soft brushes. I was finished with the eyeliner over both eyes before his arms reached from behind me over my chest and pulled me back against his front, feathering soft kisses over my jaw and ear.

“You look beautiful,” he said. I put one hand against his arms crossed over my chest, either hand on my shoulders.

“I’m not done yet,” I said with a soft laugh.

“You don’t need anything more,” he murmured against my ear.

“Hannibal, please,” I laughed again. “We probably don’t have much time.”

“You’re right,” he said almost regrettably. “I’ll go get dressed while you finish up in here.” He pulled away and I watched him walk into the bedroom.

I sighed softly and turned back to the mirror. I took out my mascara and ran it along the lengths of my long lashes. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I’d be done long before he was. Instead, I took out my leave-in conditioner and toweled off my hair, my hip resting against the vanity. I combed it carefully through every strand, scrunching to make the curls more pronounced. I was always careful about it since I had so much hair. The conditioner made my curls soft and bouncy, not frizzy and uncontrollable.

“I think you should leave your hair down today,” Hannibal said from the doorway while he buttoned his sleeves. He was wearing black slacks and a white shirt, open at the top. His feet were in shiny black shoes. He was watching me carefully, as usual. Studying the way my body bent to reach every curl.

“Why do you say that?” I asked, shifting to look at him and washing my hands.

“Your hair is like a chocolate waterfall down your back,” he described in his thick accent. “It compliments your light olive skin and your dark eyes. It embellishes your curves and is like a brown halo over you.”

I smiled softly. “It won’t be if I don’t get to my hair dryer soon. It’ll knot up and be snarled all day.”

“We must get you to your hair dryer, then,” he said with a smile, coming close to me. He cradled me in his arms, being sure to sweep the hair over his arm so his shirt didn’t get too wet. I wrapped my arm over his shoulders and nuzzled my face into his neck, smelling him in. “Stop that or you’ll never get dressed,” he said as he ran his cheek over the top of my head.

“Promise?” I asked.

“Wicked woman,” he chuckled. He pushed open my door and marched me into my bathroom. “I’ll go get your crutches,” he said while putting me down in front of my vanity. “Don’t go too far.”

“I won’t,” I promised. I watched him leave, tilting my head to the side, then I shook it. Images from the previous night came back to me and I closed my eyes against them. That only turned into sensations of his fingers and mouth over my skin. I shook my head to get rid of the images and memories of his touch. I turned to grab my hair dryer and turned it on.

I was still bent over with my hair flipped over my head with the dryer working when Hannibal came into the room. I peeked him from behind my legs as I worked my fingers through my hair. I watched him step closer, closer still, until his hands were on my hips. He held me tightly, then pressed his front along my back. His hands kept me from tipping over and I had to bite back a moan.

“I want to see you like this,” he said behind me. I switched the hair dryer off and flicked my hair back over my shoulders to tumble along my back. I’m sure I flicked him in the face, but he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he grabbed a fist full of it and brought it to his nose, taking a long breath. I looked over my shoulder and saw him close his eyes, savoring the scent. “I love that you don’t wear perfume,” he said around my curls. “Your natural scent is so soft, so light. Little notes of warm vanilla dancing over you.”

“Thank you, I think?” I said with a smile. 

He opened his eyes and dropped my hair, his hands reaching to turn my face to him, leaning down to kiss me. Just a soft kiss, lips brushing against each other. “It’s a compliment,” he said against my mouth. “You must learn to take them.”

“Thank you, Hannibal,” I whispered back, my hand grazing over clean-shaven skin. He must have taken the time to shave while I was busy. His skin was smooth to the touch and I let my fingers move over his cheek. He nuzzled into my hand, placing a kiss on my palm.

“My first patient doesn’t arrive until nine,” he said, pulling away from me and bringing in the crutches. He stood them next to me so I could take them. “I’ll go down and make some breakfast. Come down when you’re ready.” His hand brushed against my cheek before he turned to leave the room. He paused in the doorway, turning. “Do you need help with your wrappings?”

“As long as they’re in my room, I think I can manage,” I said in reply. I needed to get dressed anyway and all I had were some leggings and a t-shirt left. That’s normally what I wore while I wrote, but I spent so much time around Hannibal, it seemed too casual. “Hannibal,” I called before he turned around again. He looked back at me raising an eyebrow in question. “Do you think I could borrow one of your shirts? I need someone to bring me more clothes.”

“I would be more than happy to see you in one of my shirts,” he answered, his accent making the words curl over his tongue. “I’ll be right back.”

I put the crutches under my arms and moved my way into my bedroom, grabbing my bag. I pulled out my simple black leggings and sighed. It would be too casual, but maybe with one of Hannibal’s dress shirts, I could make it work. He entered my room with a soft smile on his lips and one of his white pressed shirts in his hand.

“Will this work?” he asked, and I nodded my answer. “I’ll call Jack when I’m making breakfast. How much would you like brought over?”

This was a test, I knew it. He wanted to see how long I was wanting to stay. “If they could bring whatever’s clean, that would be great. I don’t have a lot of clothing, but I’d like more of a selection.” 

I obviously answered correctly because he rewarded me with a deep, searching kiss. His hands tangled in my hair and cupped my face. His tongue danced in my mouth. I pressed my body along his, my hands going from the grips on the crutches to his stomach for balance. He pulled away slowly, allowing me to regain my composure and right myself.

“I’ll let him know,” Hannibal said and turned, disappearing into the hallway.

I dressed in simple black panties and a nude lace bra. I didn’t want it to show under the white dress shirt. I pulled my leggings up while sitting on the bench, hissing as it went over my ankle. God, it hurt this morning. When I stood, I stumbled, accidentally falling to my left. Instinctively, I stepped down and cried out, almost falling on the floor. Yeah, that didn’t help. I sat back on the bench and frowned down at my foot. It wasn’t getting better and I hated it. I reached behind me and grabbed the wrap, propping my foot on my right knee. I wrapped it tightly, trying to contain the pain with the elastic. I then slid the boot over my way and gently placed my foot into it. I wrapped the padding around my leg, securing it with the Velcro. Then I strapped in and inflated it. There. My foot was protected. 

I then pulled Hannibal’s shirt over my arms. It smelled like him with only a light hint of starch and I brought the collar up to my nose to inhaled. It was big on me, as I expected. I did the buttons up to the top two, leaving them undone. I pulled my hair to spill down the back and shook it. If Hannibal wanted it down, I would leave it down. I rolled the sleeves up to my elbows, now not caring if he saw my scars. He’d seen all of me last night and he hadn’t rejected me. I could be more comfortable around him.

I took my crutches and left my room, moving through the hall and to the stairs. I could smell breakfast. Some sort of sausage was sizzling away. He was such a carnivore. I didn’t mind, though. I very slowly, very carefully went down the stairs. It seemed to take hours, but it was really only a few minutes and as long as I focused, I could do it on my own. My ankle throbbed every second. I’d have to ask for a pain pill.

As I drew closer to the kitchen, I heard voices. Hannibal was talking to someone. At first, I couldn’t tell who it was. After a moment, I recognized Crawford’s voice coming from the kitchen. Damn, I thought, rethinking the sleeves.

“She’s doing fine, Jack,” Hannibal said. “She hasn’t gotten a call from the Baltimore Butcher again and her anxiety of being somewhere other than home is subsiding. She’s asked for more clothes. When can we expect them?”

“What does she want brought over?” Crawford asked.

“Everything that’s clean,” Hannibal responded, his tone sounding pleased. I smiled a bit.

“Hannibal?” I called just to let them know I was getting closer. A second later, he was at the doorway. He took me in from my bare little foot to my crown of brown locks and his lips turned up.

“Are you alright, Mattea?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Who’s here?”

“Jack stopped by to check on you,” he said, turning to go back in since I’d gotten closer. I followed him to see a pan sizzling on the gas stove and Crawford standing in his big black coat by the back door. He smiled to me, faltering a bit when he noticed the shirt.

“Hello, Agent Crawford,” I said as I took a seat in the little chair in the corner.

“Miss Smith,” he said in greeting. “How is your ankle feeling?”

“Oh, it hurts today,” I said with a wince when I put it down.

Hannibal stopped and looked up. “You’re in pain?” he asked.

“Yes, but I can wait until after breakfast to take one of my pain pills,” I replied, smiling gently. I didn’t want him to worry.

“We need to set up a schedule with your pills to try and keep ahead of the pain,” he said going back to his cooking. “I don’t like that we’ve skipped so many doses.”

“Really, Hannibal, I’m ok,” I said mildly. “It just hurts. Pain lets us know that we’re alive.”

He looked up at me, his eyes meeting mine and something flickered in those golden depths. I couldn’t understand it. Just a flicker of emotion. Then he smiled at me.

“Yes, yes it does.”

“Dr. Lecter,” Crawford interrupted. “May I have a word with you in the hall?”

“Of course, Jack,” he said, flicking off the burner. “Breakfast is almost ready. Go wait in the dining room and I’ll bring it out to you,” he said to me. Then he walked out with Crawford. Uh, oh.

I stood and put the crutches under my arms, swinging myself into motion. I tried not to hear the voices, slightly raised, coming from the hall as I went. I caught little words like “how close have you gotten” and “it’s nothing to worry about” as I moved. I took my normal seat at the table and waited. I didn’t have to wait long. I heard Hannibal plating in the kitchen, his and Crawford’s voice drifting in, less angry.

I looked up when they both rounded the corner. Hannibal had three plates in his arms, all with scrambled eggs and fat sausage links on them. I could tell which was mine, since the serving was smaller. He put my plate in front of me with a wink, then put what I assumed to be Crawford’s at the head of the table. Hannibal took his normal seat across from me.

“Jack has decided to join us for breakfast,” he said brightly. There was a pitcher of orange juice next to him and he grabbed my deep glass and filled it half way, doing the same for Crawford and himself. “He’d like to go over some details with you.”

I frowned, expecting my anxiety to shoot through the roof. I kept my arms under the table as Crawford took off his coat and draped it over the back of the chair, sitting in his seat. He smiled warmly at me, a glint in his dark eyes.

“How are you adjusting to staying with Dr. Lecter, Miss Smith?” he asked, cutting a slice off his sausage and putting it in his mouth.

“Hannibal has made me feel very comfortable here,” I answered, one hand going up to grab my fork. I was very careful of which arm I used and how I used it so that he didn’t see my scars. I’d done this many, many times before, so I was used to it. “He’s given me an excellent area to work in. My lodgings are way over what I expected. He’s very good company. We both work the same hours and we seem to get along.” Hannibal winked at me slyly.

“I see,” Crawford said after he swallowed another bite. “You don’t mind being here for a while longer, then, I hope.”

“Have you still not found him?” Hannibal asked as he raised his fork, a generous helping of sausage on it.

“No, we’re not having any luck,” Crawford said, turning his attention to him. “He either hasn’t found you or he’s very good at hiding himself. We’re just not sure which.” He turned to me. “Has he called you again?”

“Oh,” I said shyly, blushing. “I seem to have misplaced my phone. I don’t know if I’ve missed any phone calls. Hannibal, do you know where it is? I have an appointment today, so I’ll need it for sure.”

“I believe it’s in my office,” he answered with a frown. “I’ll get it before you go up to work for the day.”

“Thank you, Hannibal,” I said with a soft smile. It was hard not to be starry eyed with him, but I kept a lid on it so Crawford didn’t catch further wind of what we’d been up to. I didn’t think that would go well considering the hushed conversation in the hallway.

“May I ask what this appointment is for?” Crawford asked as politely as he could.

“It’s my psychiatrist,” I said before I took a small bite of my half sausage. “We need to go over my meds. She’d rather do phone calls than Zoom meetings.”

“Are you comfortable with others hearing the call?”

Hannibal gave him a glance, frowning. He didn’t like the invasion of privacy.

“It’s really just making sure everything is working fine,” I said. “We only ever talk about my symptoms and how we can manage them.” I took a bite and chewed slowly. The sausage was just spicy enough to make me need the orange juice. Seasoned beautifully.

“You don’t have sessions like Dr. Lecter?”

“No, as I said at my home, therapy and I don’t agree.”

“I see,” Crawford said thoughtfully.

“Do you ever go see her in person?” Hannibal asked, chewing lightly.

“No, I’ve only ever met her once and she came to my house for the in-take information. It’s usually just phone calls.”

“There are some meds that were on your list that I didn’t recognize,” Hannibal said, taking another bite. “Do you see another specialist?”

I blushed. This was going to be embarrassing. “Yes, I see a rheumatologist,” I answered shortly.

Hannibal frowned. “You’re much too young for arthritis,” he said while putting his knife and fork down.

“Not for this kind,” I said softly. “I was diagnosed three years ago with rheumatoid arthritis. It’s an autoimmune disease. My immune system attacks my joints and soft tissues. The meds you didn’t recognize are likely the immunosuppressive drugs.”

“I’ve heard of rheumatoid arthritis, but I don’t know the specifics,” Hannibal said, his face all seriousness. “May I sit in on your next appointment?”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll be busy, Hannibal,” I said taking a bite. A moment later, I said, “I talk to her Monday afternoon. Around one.” I saw him make a note of it. Yeah, he’d probably reschedule to make room for the appointment.

“What does rheumatoid arthritis do?” Crawford asked, frowning as well.

“Well, as I said, my immune system recognizes my own tissues and joints as invaders. It attacks them, degrades them. My joints are normally painful, but flair ups are torture. My joints swell and get hot to the touch. It’s hard to move them for days, if not weeks. We’ve managed to suppress my immune system enough that I haven’t had a flair up in a little over a month. The nurse is supposed to come to draw blood. Hannibal, you don’t mind if I give them your address, do you?”

“Of course not,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “Do they do that to track your inflammation?”

“That too,” I said, chewing slightly and swallowing. “The meds I take can also damage my liver and kidneys. They can also cause certain cancers. They track to make sure my liver and kidneys are functioning normally and that they’re not killing me.”

Oh, Hannibal did not like that answer. His face shut down and his gaze darkened. I sighed. We were going to have to discuss this, I knew it. 

We all finished our meal without much more conversation. I think Hannibal was mulling over the information I’d given him and Crawford just didn’t want to irritate him further. He did not look happy. Crawford stood and tucked his coat over his arm.

“Thank you for breakfast, Dr. Lecter,” he said to Hannibal, reaching out to shake his hand. “It was delicious, as usual.”

“Thank you, Jack,” Hannibal responded, his face brightening a bit so he didn’t glower at him. Yeah, this was going to be fun. 

“I’ll see myself out,” Crawford said and turned to leave. We both watched him go and I sat miserably in my chair. I knew that Hannibal wasn’t happy.

“Which medication is the dangerous one?” he asked as he collected the plates, his eyes flickering to my face.

“Well, they both are,” I said honestly. I stood and took up my crutches to follow him into the kitchen. “The methotrexate is a chemotherapy medication. I take it once a week, subcutaneously. The xelgenz I take every night. It’s a pill that goes with the rest of my meds.”

“Chemotherapy?” Hannibal asked, stopping from rinsing the dishes off in the sink and turning. “You’re on chemotherapy? Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“It’s not a big deal, Hannibal. I’ve been taking it for two years now. I get sick the day of and I’m tired the day after, but it helps more than it hurts.”

He came close to me, his hands reaching to cup my face on both sides. His thumbs caressed my cheekbones. “It’s a big deal to me,” he said before he kissed my forehead. “These drugs are dangerous. You have to be careful with them.”

“I am, Hannibal,” I promised him. My hands came up to his forearms and I leaned into him. “I’m ok. I’ve been doing this for years now. I’ll be just fine.”

“I’m sitting in on your next appointment,” he insisted. “You have a tendency to underplay your illnesses and your injuries. I want the truth.”

“I’m telling you the truth, Hannibal,” I said softly. “I have moderately severe rheumatoid arthritis. If I don’t take these drugs, it will take over my body and cause more damage than it already has. I have to take them or I’ll be in a wheelchair within a year.”

His gaze darkened again and he pulled me into a fierce hug. It was strong, but he didn’t crush me to him, just held me tightly. His head nuzzled along the top of my head and his fingers went through my hair.

“You really are a delicate little thing, aren’t you,” he said almost absently.

“Hannibal, don’t you have an appointment soon?” I asked to distract him. I felt him check his watch. He sighed and dropped his arms, pulling away from me.

“You’re right,” he said softly. He looked down into my eyes and was very serious. I reached up and smoothed his hair over to the side and me gave me a slight smile. “I’ll go get your phone, then take you upstairs to your room.”

“Are you planning on carrying me again?” I asked, one side of my mouth curling up and an eyebrow raising.

He turned as he walked out of the room and winked. Yep, he was.

He didn’t take long retrieving my phone. I waited for him at the base of the stairs, leaning against the banister. He was frowning.

“Mattea, I want you to listen to me very carefully,” he said as he drew closer. He was looking down at my phone. My heart skipped a beat. “There are four missed calls from last night, both from blocked numbers. It’s alright, Jack said he hasn’t been spotted here. He may take this as you being rude, however, and might seek to find you soon. You only have one thing to fear in my house and that’s always me. He won’t touch you here.”

“Hannibal, I don’t want to put you in danger,” I said a little breathless as my heart started to pound. “I don’t want you hurt.”

He pulled me close, one hand going to the back of my head and pulling me in for a close hug, my face buried in his chest. “No one will hurt me,” he soothed. “I’m in no danger with you here, except from you.”

I looked up at him then, searching his face. It was smooth and closed off. He showed no emotion, not even a flicker in his eyes. He was serious. I didn’t know what kind of danger I posed, but I was happy to hear him sound so confident. I wasn’t. My heart was hammering in my chest. I think he could feel it through our bodies and he leaned down to slant his mouth over mine, kissing me deeply until I could barely breathe. His tongue chased away any doubt or fear that I may have been feeling and replaced it with need.

“You’re dangerous, Hannibal,” I whispered into his mouth when he drew away.

“I know,” he whispered back. Then he suddenly scooped me up. “Hold onto the crutches for me.” He then just started climbing the stairs, his eyes locked on mine. We reached the top in no time and he set me down on my foot. He handed me my phone and kissed my forehead again. “I need to finish getting dressed. I trust you can find your way into your room?”

“Of course, Hannibal,” I said as I slipped my phone into the pocket of my leggings. I slipped the crutches under my arms and followed him down the hallway, splitting to go into my room across from where he disappeared to. Once inside, I shut the door behind me with one of the ends of a crutch. I was miserable, though I shouldn’t be. Hannibal had been wild with passion for me last night. While he kissed and soothed me, it seemed that the passion had cooled with the new information about my health coming up.

I swung myself to the suitcase on my bed and pulled out my phone charger, plugging it in next to the nightstand. I took my phone out of my pocket and plugged it in. I noticed that I got a text from my niece.

“Hey auntie I hope your feeling better after your fall!” she’d sent. Her grammar was atrocious but I smiled and shook my head anyway.

“I’m doing ok, thank you, honey. Give my love to your mom, dad, and brothers. I love you.” I opened the phone and went to my spotify app. I started playing it without the earbuds so I wouldn’t be ambushed again, my music floating softly from the phone. I set it down on the nightstand and swung myself over to the writing desk. I had pages to write out. Today was going to be a long day.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Mattea's passion ignites within them with every touch.

The day passed as it usually did. My heroin and hero had met my protagonist and they had fought, the hero being mortally wounded and rescued by his army. I stopped at eleven-thirty for my appointment with my psychiatrist. By then, my phone was charged. It was a brief half-hour appointment. I told her that I felt my depression was handling well and that I was sleeping well except for nightmares. She mentioned that she would be more willing to up my dose of clonidine if it weren’t for my blood pressure being so low already. I told her I’d try and work on it myself.

My heroin was caring for her lover when there was a knock at my door.

“Yes?” I called. 

The door opened and Hannibal’s head popped in. He gave me a soft upturn of his lips. “Are you ready to be done for the day?” he asked. He opened the door and I saw that over his black slacks, he’d chosen a deep gray jacket with black plaid. It looked good on him, though I wasn't sure why he favored plaid so much.

“Is it that time already?” I asked, glancing back to the nightstand. The digital clock said it was already five-thirty. “Wow, I really never notice when time passes.”

Hannibal came into the room and walked over to my phone, hearing my music. A song called “Supermarket Flowers” was playing. It was about the songwriter losing his mother. In a way, I’d lost mine. She was alive but wanted nothing to do with me.

“Is your music typically like this?” he asked, tapping on the screen to light it up. 

“Yes,” I answered honestly. “I like the softer music, sometimes I even opt for classical. It helps write the fight scenes.”

“How controlled is your depression?” he asked.

“Hannibal, just because I listen to sad music doesn’t mean I’m depressed,” I said. “It’s just part of my creative process. I was depressed when I started writing at ten. This is the type of music I listened to back then. I’ve conditioned myself to write better with this type of music.”

He turned back to me, putting my phone back down beside me. He looked from my foot propped up on the chair, then back to my face. “We forgot to give you your pain meds,” he said simply. “I’m sorry, Mattea. Does it hurt very much?”

I winced. “Only when I try to move it,” I answered honestly. “It’s been ok for the most part today as long as I leave it alone.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come up for lunch. I spent the time catching up on patient notes. I figured that I could get them out of the way so we could get to our evening faster.”

“That’s fine, Hannibal,” I said, looking up into his face and smiling softly. He returned my smile and bent at the waist, his hand cupping my face and his mouth gently brushing mine. It was like he was waiting for permission, so I dashed my tongue out to lick his bottom lip. He gave me a soft moan and then kissed me deeper, thrusting his tongue into my mouth and searching the depths. His other hand came up to the back of my neck, gripping my hair there and pulling me closer. He fed from me, licking, sucking, and biting my lips. He was gentle yet demanding. And I’d worried about passions cooling between us.

He drew away after a few moments, his breath panting over my face. “I’m very glad we have the weekend,” he said with a soft smile, eyes searching mine. “If we spend it in bed, I’ll be a very happy man.”

“I’d like that,” I whispered, smiling up to him. 

“First, I need to feed you,” he said, standing and righting himself. He unbuttoned the top button of his jacket and then the waistcoat completely. He reached up and pulled down the tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. “Let me go take these off and we’ll go downstairs.” I nodded and he left the room. 

Alone, I closed my laptop. I’d have to send my pages in tomorrow so that Edna, my editor, could go over them. I would take a look myself and edit them before I sent them in. Maybe while Hannibal was sleeping or distracted with something. I took a deep breath and stood, tipping slightly. I grabbed my phone and put it into the pocket of my leggings, smoothing the lapels of the shirt down over my hips and rump. I grabbed the crutches and started making my way to my door. I opened it awkwardly and swung it all the way. Just across the hall, I saw Hannibal hanging up his jacket and waistcoat. He looked very good from behind. And think, I get to play with all of that, I thought to myself with a smile. I then turned and started down the hallway.

I was half way down the stairs before Hannibal caught up to me. He waited patiently as I descended, letting me take my time. “You’re getting very good at this,” he mentioned behind me. “How does it feel to have your independence back?”

“Much better, thank you, Hannibal,” I said as I reached the bottom step. I put the other crutch under my left arm and leaned on it, turning to move to the kitchen. “What kind of masterpiece are we eating tonight?”

“I’ve already started the chocolate souffle,” he said as we walked. “I’m making you a Confit de canard with new potatoes, beans, and samphire for dinner.”

“Oh, what’s that?” I asked as we turned into the kitchen. I could smell chocolate in the air. He’d already started cooking before he came up to get me. I guess he liked early Fridays.

“It’s duck,” he said over his shoulder, rolling up his sleeves. I could see the duck legs in some sort of fat in a Dutch oven on the stove. They weren’t sizzling yet, but they weren’t far. I guess Hannibal didn’t want to start a fire.

He was very serious with his food. He moved so gracefully through the kitchen, having me seated in the chair in the corner. He sliced the new potatoes and frying them, shelling the beans nimbly. He fried them in a pan, adding the beans, butter and something else to the pan. He tilted the frying pan to light it on fire and it whooshed up hot and fast. He burned off whatever it was he was trying to and the fire went out. He took the duck legs out of the fat and put them in another pan, crisping up the skin. We talked about our days, him asking about my appointment and me asking if he saw anything crazy today.

“Everyday,” he said, looking at me and smiling.

“Your day is never boring, is it, Hannibal?” I asked, returning his smile.

“Never,” he answered simply. He turned the heat off and started plating the food, artfully decorating and making it look amazing. He turned the light on in the oven and checked the souffles. “Just another moment. I’ll take the plates out, you wait here.” I nodded and he left the room with the two plates. The kitchen smelled amazing. I couldn’t wait to eat what he’d served me. 

He was back in quickly, taking some oven gloves and opening the top oven. The souffles were raised over the edge by about an inch and a half, maybe two inches. The smell of chocolate colored the air. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, smiling. When I opened my eyes, Hannibal was watching me with a soft hint of a smile on his own lips.

“Are you ready?” he asked, gently putting the souffles on the counter to cool. He walked over to me and extended a hand to help me stand. He was still wearing his chef apron, little wipes of things marring its white perfection.

“Thank you, Hannibal,” I said, standing. I reached for my crutches but was instead scooped up, the line of my body along the line of his, my feet dangling in the air. His mouth closed over mine and he just stood there, kissing me for a few minutes. My arms circled his neck, pulling him closer, my tongue delving into his mouth. My right hand went to the back of his head lightly, feeling him move as he explored my mouth.

He pulled back and I opened my eyes. His face was only inches from mine, and I watched his eyes. I looked for anything that might indicate distaste after discovering that I had RA. I found nothing. He was searching for my face, too. His eyes moved from mine, over my nose and down to my lips, then back up.

“You look beautiful,” he said again. “Grazi, that’s what I see.”

“Hannibal,” I sighed. “You can’t keep complimenting me.”

“Nonsense,” he said, turning on his heel with me dangling from his arms. He walked me into the dining room and brought me to my chair. Before he set me back down, he gave the barest of kisses. “I’d love to dance with you,” he whispered into my mouth. “You would be a wonderful partner.”

I smiled as he slid me down the front of his body to stand on my right foot, my left still throbbing painfully. “I won’t be dancing for a while, Hannibal.”

“But when you can, I will take you to a ball,” he said with his head tilted to the side. “I will waltz with you, have you on my arm like the prize you are.”

I blushed furiously. “Hannibal,” I said with a warning tone in my voice.

“You’ll just have to accept the fact that you are beautiful, Mattea,” he said, turning and going to his own place setting across from me. He sat as I did, I shuffled in the chair closer to the table, careful not to use my left foot to do so. 

“Now”, he said with finality, picking up his knife and fork. “Please tell me how you were diagnosed with RA.”

My eyebrows raised. He’d done some research today. I took a bite of the duck and groaned. He smiled over the table at me. It just melted in my mouth, the thyme and other seasonings enhancing the flavor. I told him all about how my GP had thought it was just something simple until my blood tests came back. I told him about searching for a rheumatologist in my hometown and was frank about the fact that there was only one, and he was a judgmental jerk. I told him about how I found one fifty miles away, all the blood tests, and all the drugs they tried before we started immunosuppressive therapy. His face grew grim when I described how the methotrexate tablets made me violently ill. I told him that the injections still made me feel sick, but that it was much more manageable. I told him how the methotrexate wasn’t enough, so we tried other drugs, finally landing on xelgenz that helped reduce my inflammation markers. By the time I was done, our entrees were finished, and we were leaning back in our chairs.

“You’ve been through quite a battle,” Hannibal observed. “You don’t take very good care of yourself, but you do try, and that’s admirable.”

I frowned at him. “I’ve been taking care of myself since I was four, Hannibal. If I was so bad at it, I would be dead by now.”

He smirked at the little bit of defensiveness I threw at him. “You’re right,” he said, standing and gathering the plates. “You’ve done well, but I can do better.” He winked at me and left the room to grab desserts. He was back quickly, the little chocolate souffles balanced on small plates. He put mine down in front of me.

“Let’s not talk about my health anymore, please, Hannibal,” I pleaded. I knew it impacted him; I just didn’t know how. I didn’t like how his face would darken when I talked about certain things. It was almost like he was angry with me. I didn’t like that.

“What shall we talk about, then?” he asked, scooping a bit of the souffle into his mouth.

“What are we going to do all weekend?” I countered, doing the same and having my eyes roll up into the back of my head. There was chocolate and then there was this. It was amazing, creamy, rich. Perfect.

I saw his mouth tick up and his eyes grow wicked. “I very much hope to not leave the bedroom much this weekend,” he said. “I want you all to myself. I hope that Jack and Will don’t have any emergencies that require my attention. I hope that your Butcher is found or leaves us be all weekend long.” He paused and took another bite. “I know how unlikely that plan will be, but I still hope for it.”

I smiled through my bite. God, this was good, but not better than sex.

“And what do you plan to do in the bedroom, Hannibal?”

His eyes grew dark and hooded. The looked me over in his shirt, the top two buttons undone and sitting just above my cleavage. He’d know that, surely. 

“I’m going to explore you, every inch of you. I’m going to kiss you, taste you, feel you, and make love to you. There won’t be any escape from me. You’ll be mine all weekend and I will use every moment to investigate everything about you, inside and out.”

I felt heat pool low inside me at his description. My breath came out hot and heavy from my lungs. I licked the spoon, chasing bits of chocolate across its surface. He watched my tongue move and I hoped he was imagining what my tongue could do to him. His mouth became slack and I smiled, knowing that his imagination was going wild.

“Keep that up and we won’t finish our dessert, Mattea,” he warned.

“That would be terrible,” I said, taking another spin of my spoon in the chocolate, then licking it clean. He watched every movement, slowly eating his serving. His eyes grew darker and darker and I could almost see the thoughts running through his head.

Finally, I set my spoon beside the empty ramekin. I leaned back and watched him finish his. He was slow, deliberate, watching me as he ate. We didn’t speak, just watched each other. I could feel heat inside of me and I knew I was ready for him.

Once he set his spoon down, he looked up at me, tilting his head to the side.

“You know what is about to happen, don’t you?” he asked slowly. I shook my head, a light smile on my lips. “I’m going to come get you. I’m going to grab you up and kiss you soundly. I’m going to take you upstairs and lay you out. I’m going to touch and taste you. You’re going to lay back and allow the exploration. Tonight, I find what’s in the center of you and I’m going to take it.”

I was breathing hard by the time he was done. I watched him rise purposefully, stepping around his chair. He moved swiftly around the table to me, grabbing my arm and pulling me up, my hip bumping the table. He put my arms around his neck and kissed me, just as he promised. It was a slow, burning search inside my mouth. His hand held the back of my head so I couldn’t pull away. My hand mimicked his but didn’t put any pressure on his head. I knew he wouldn’t move away. He almost growled into my mouth. 

He broke away suddenly and left me breathless. He moved one arm to sweep my legs up and cradle me to his chest. I leaned my head onto his shoulder, closing my eyes as he moved through the house and up the stairs.

His room was still a bit messy from last night. The bed was still unmade and clothes were everywhere. He gently laid me out on the bed over the open sheets. He pulled the blankets down to cover the bench at the bottom of his bed. Just the fitted sheet and pillows were left. I lay back, my left foot hanging off the edge of the bed. He clicked on the same light from last night on the nightstand and let the gentle glow flow over me.

“You’ve pulled a dirty trick, Mattea,” he said, his eyes almost caressing me. “You’ve worn long pants and they’re tucked into your boot. I can’t just rip them off and throw them away. I’ll have to remove your boot to get them off.”

I guess I hadn’t thought of that when dressing earlier this morning. I gave him a shy, apologetic look and he shook his head. He bent to start unstrapping me, the Velcro making harsh sounds that echoed off the walls. He finally pulled the boot off and gently placed my foot on the bed. 

“We’ll leave the support bandage on for tonight,” he said throatily. As if just removing the boot was a sexual thing.

I began to crawl up the bed and into the center, scooting up on my arms and using my right foot. He tilted his head and reached to start unbuttoning his shirt. He watched me move closely, making me feel like some delicate prey to his predator. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. His chest was so lightly haired from just below his collar bones to below his pectorals, which were flexing, with a trail going down his stomach into his slacks. I wanted to run my fingers through it, knowing it was rough and soft all at once. 

His hands went to his belt as I settled in the center of the bed. I watched his face as he undid it and went on to unbutton and zip his slacks, pulling them open and pushing them over his hips and down his legs. He had red boxer briefs on, the color of blood, and I could see he was stirring. 

He came to me then, crawling up the bed on his hands and knees, kneeling beside my legs. He was calm, precise, completely in control. I sighed, trying to still my heart that was fluttering like a lost bird in my chest. He leaned over me, grasping my arms and pulling me by my wrists up over my head.

“Don’t move,” he whispered. It was a direct order. A thrill of fear flickered through me. My throat went dry as I nodded. “Don’t move,” he said again, his breath shaking out of him.

I lay there, my legs bent slightly, but clasped together. My hands were up over my head. I was open, vulnerable, defenseless. My breathing was shallow, my heart pounding. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, still holding me by my wrists. His face was just above mine, his chest only a few inches over me. I could feel his breath on my face, slow, even breaths now. He’d regained his composure.

He pushed off me then, sitting back on his bent legs as he knelt beside me. His hands went to the buttons of the shirt I was wearing. He slowly undid them, his fingers pulling the buttons up to him rather than touching me. It was like if he touched my skin, he’d lose that carefully controlled discipline. He’d been wild last night. Tonight, he was calm and careful. 

Once he had opened the shirt, he pushed it wide, exposing my stomach and chest. His eyes roamed around my body, taking it in.

“You know, I’ve enjoyed seeing you in my shirt today,” he said in a calm tone. “It’s reminded me that I’ve covered you recently, too. And I intend to do so again.”

His hands touched me then, his eyes watching where they roamed. His fingertips traced my scars and his face remained placid. His touch was light, gentle. I shivered under it. Slowly, his hands came up to cup my breasts through my bra. He squeezed gently, watching them mound. 

“Sit up, Mattea,” he said softly. “Let me take my shirt and your bra off.”

I sat up slowly, pushing off with my hands behind me. I felt him gently tug the shirt down my arms, the bottom of the shirt was under me, so he just laid it back. He touched the skin just below the seam of the bra lightly. I shivered for him. He shifted on his knees, kneeling further up so he could get behind me. I felt his nimble fingers unclasp my bra and then trace over my back to my shoulders, softly pulling the bra straps down. I spilled into view and he almost sighed. He threw the bra in some direction over his shoulder. His hands cupped me and touched me, sliding up to push me back down. I lay back, bringing my arms over my head willingly, without needing to be told. The corner of his mouth tugged up.

He laid down then, stretching out next to me, his body leaning away from me so only his chest, hands and head were at the level of my breasts. He smoothed his cheek against the side of one breast, the stubble scratching softly. I closed my eyes and rolled my head back against the pillows. I was all sensation now. My world was his touch. I felt his right hand graze my rib cage, being trapped under his body. His left hand cupped my heavy right breast and he kneaded it gently, his fingers flicking over my nipple. I gasped for air when his mouth closed over my left nipple. He sucked, strong and hard, using his teeth lightly. I moaned for him, arching my back.

He pulled away to whisper against my breast, “Don’t move.” I mewled and settled back down. My hands itched to be in his hair, to clutch him to me as his tongue darted out and licked my nipples into hard peaks. His left hand smoothed over my stomach, spanning the expanse of it, tracing each rib. 

His mouth moved lower, feathering kisses over my rib cage, then lower. He licked my navel and kissed down to the top of my pants. He shifted his weight and sat back up.

“Normally, I’d just rip these off you,” he murmured, as if to himself. “I can’t do that. I have to be gentle. I have to be in control.”

His fingertips hooked under the waist of my leggings, I could feel his nails gently scratch my hips and I bit my lip. I lifted my hips slightly so he could pull the black leggings, as well as the black panties, down my legs. Suddenly I was naked before him. I shivered against the cold and crossed my arms over my chest.

“This won’t do,” he said and he moved off of the bed. I frowned and looked down, seeing him at the fireplace, starting a fire. He got it to a high flame, the heat of it pouring out into the room. He turned back to me and crawled up the bed, parting my legs slowly. “The fire will warm the room, just give it time.”

I nodded and felt him lay his body down between my legs. His arms tucked under my thighs, making me bend them at the knee. I was completely open to him and I felt his breath against me warm, wet folds. I knew what he was going to do before he did it as he locked his arms around my hips, his hands reaching up my body. His tongue raked over my sensitive skin and my back arched to match it. I cried out and thrashed my head as he started to kiss my wetness. His tongue began exploring me like it did my mouth. I felt it enter me and I wanted to weep. He licked slowly, achingly slowly up to my little nub of nerve endings. His lips closed over it and sucked hard. My hands flashed to his head, trying to push him away. He growled into my slick heat and I started running my hands through his soft hair. His mouth devoured me, savored me, ate me deeply. His tongue coaxed me, that rubber band tightening in my stomach. His stubble scratched across the sensitive skin. I arched and undulated under him. I couldn’t help it. He groaned into me, sucking at the lips and nibbling them. When his tongue entered me again, I spilled for him, climaxing so hard I screamed. I exploded out of my body, into a realm of sensation and pleasure.

I didn’t notice him crawling up my body, leaving soft, wet kisses over my stomach, between my breasts, and up my neck to nibble at my jaw until he was already there. I was slowly coming down. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, running the flats of my palms over his lightly muscled arms. He kissed me, slanting his mouth over mine and I tasted myself on his lips. I felt his hands bury themselves in my hair, reaching to cup my face in their wide expanse. I kissed him as he’d kissed me. I licked and nibbled his lips, sucking them in between my teeth. He moaned into my mouth and I felt him thrust against my body. He was ready.

He pushed himself off me, reaching down and tearing off his boxer briefs. He’d lost his control, his composure. Now he was just hunger and need. He was back on me, our bodies growing slick with sweat from the heat of the fire both burning inside of us and in the fireplace. He slid up me, balancing himself on his elbows to look into my face. 

“I’m going to take you now, Mattea,” he told me. He shifted his weight onto his right arm and his left hand went between us. He ran the tip of himself through my wetness over and over. Then he shifted up, his head pushing into me. I gasped and watched his eyes close in bliss. He shifted further, crawling up me, inside of me. He pushed deep and I felt him twitch inside me. His elbows were on either side of my head and he clasped me to him. I took the chance to lick his chest through the light hair. He responded by pushing deeper, arching his back. I set my teeth into his nipple and he cried out over me, then pulled away.

“Naughty, Mattea,” he said, pulling himself nearly out and leaning down to demand my mouth with his. He started rocking, like the waves on a beach. He moved in and out of me endlessly, just the little bit he could manage while leaning down. His mouth moved from mine down my cheek to nibble on my jaw. I gasped for air against his shoulder. My nails raked lightly over his back and arms. He shuddered for me. He never stopped moving inside of me, over me. His right hand cupped my face, tracing my jaw as his face lingered over mine, his mouth slack and his dark eyes hooded. 

I felt myself coming apart beneath him. I could feel my climax about to surge. It was so powerful that it frightened me.

“Hannibal,” I whispered desperately. 

He hushed me and smoothed my hair back from my face. He knew it was coming and he was encouraging it. He started moving faster, deeper. He was so deep inside me I didn’t know where he ended and I began. I hooked my legs around his hips, locking him down to me. Both legs wrapped around him tightly, the pain of my left foot a distant memory compared to the pleasure that was surging inside me. I felt the dam inside me start to break, the pleasure spilling out. I gasped, then screamed my pleasure to the ceiling as I broke apart. I held him desperately, afraid that if I let go I would be lost.

He wasn’t far behind me, his body starting to tremble as he moved over me. His hands clenched in my hair, not pulling, but gripping. He pulled me to his chest, arms flexing around me as me moved. His thrusts were becoming short and eager. My feet bounced a bit as his hips worked. He took my mouth as he groaned, spilling inside me. He twitched inside me over and over, spilling every drop. His kiss was thorough, as if he hadn’t just climaxed. His arms still clenched around me and I felt a drop of sweat trickle along the line of my leg.

Slowly, he pulled away, his body stopping over me. He looked down into my eyes, sweat trailing down his face and neck. He searched my them for pain, discomfort, anything negative. I just gave him a soft smile. He closed his eyes as if in relief and leaned his forehead down against mine. He gently slid down my body, pulling out of me and leaving me bereft for him. I cradled his head as he rested it above my heartbeat that was still thundering in my chest. I could feel wetness trickling out of me and onto the sheets.

“Hannibal,” I said softly. He raised his head to look at my eyes. “We’re making a mess.”

He smirked. “I can’t stand right now, so I’ll just have to clean the mess when I’ve recovered,” he said back to me, then laid his head against me again. I let my fingers trail through his wet hair, down his neck and over his shoulders and arms where he held me so tightly.

We laid like that for a long time, my arms and legs wrapped around him lightly. He rested there until both of our breathing had returned to normal and the sweat began to cool and dry over our skin. He shifted above me, moving up onto his left elbow, his right hand releasing my hair to caress my face. He looked into my eyes and smiled softly.

“Are you alright?” he asked. I smiled and nodded, not trusting my voice. My throat was raw from screaming and my body was exhausted.

“Are you?” I whispered instead.

“I’m fine,” he said, tilting his head to the side, his hair falling over his brow. I swept it aside with my fingertips, then ran them down his cheek to outline his lips. He was stunning. He pulled away further, twisting his body so he could look down the line of us. He glanced back up at me and gave me a flash of a grin, then he pressed himself up and moved off of me. I felt the heat of the fire against my skin, chasing away the autumn chill. I watched him go into the bathroom and heard him turn on the water. He came back out with that same, damp white washrag and gently touched me. I was raw from all of his explorations and I felt a sting when he wiped his seed away. He noticed my body twitch.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked thoughtfully, still cleaning me though I twitched with every touch.

“I guess I’m a bit sensitive,” I said between hisses. 

He glanced up into my eyes. “You’re lying to me, Mattea. I told you to never do that.”

“I’m not lying,” I defended, “I’m just not telling you the whole truth.” He tisked at me and finished his ministrations, moving away to wipe himself down. He took the rag into the bathroom and rinsed it out.

“The fire is too high,” he commented as he came back out. He repeated his actions, going to the dresser and pulling out a fresh pair of boxer briefs. They looked like burnt amber in the firelight. He went to the fireplace and turned the logs slowly, then he turned to me. I was still laying boneless in the bed, still recovering. He grabbed the blankets and hauled them up over me.

He climbed into the bed and turned me to face him. He tucked me under his shoulder and pulled the blankets up to cover me. My left leg lifted over his and I gently rested my ankle over his legs. My left arm went over his stomach, my fingers trailing in the hair on his chest. I laid my head against his shoulder and his arms wrapped around me. 

“No waking up early tomorrow, Mattea,” he said above me. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head and shifted his arm around my shoulders. “You can sleep. Sleep a deep dreamless sleep. A resting sleep. I’m not done with you yet.”

I sighed into him and nuzzled his shoulder. “Yes, Hannibal,” I said as I drifted off.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is starting to suspect. The Butcher drops another body to try and tempt Mattea out of hiding. Hannibal tries to comfort Mattea after Jack's directness and the loss of someone close to her.

There was a sound, a harsh ringing. It trilled and broke me from the darkness. It was my phone. I felt Hannibal move beside me and I opened my eyes. I could see light from the hallway spilling in. The sun was up. 

Hannibal pulled my phone out of the pocket of my leggings. He frowned at the display.

“Who is Edna?” he asked.

“Oh no!” I said, flying up to my knees and crawling down the bed. I took the phone from him and slid to answer.

“Edna, I’m so sorry,” I said in greeting.

“You’re late, Mattea,” an older lady scolded on the other end.

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “Life has been sort of hectic. I’ll get the pages to you in a few hours, I promise.”

“Is everything ok?” she asked. There were hints of concern in her voice.

“Yes, Edna, I’m fine,” I lied. I looked up and saw Hannibal frown at me. “It’s just been a bit crazy. I’ll get those pages to you right away.”

“Ok, dear, as long as you’re alright,” she said. We hung up and I looked at my phone in my hand. I’d completely forgotten about Edna. I looked at the time. It was almost ten! I sighed and sat to the side, careful not to bump my throbbing ankle. I rubbed a hand over my face, my hair falling over my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Hannibal, I need to edit my chapters,” I said, looking up at him.

“Why did you lie to her?” he asked, sitting down on the bench. I saw that his briefs were black instead of amber in the daylight. He tilted his head to the side and watched me, a very serious look on his face.

“My editor is in her sixties,” I explained. “She’s been with me these past thirteen years and has grown fond of me. I don’t want her knowing that I’m the object of some crazy killer’s desires. Or that I’m hurt. She would worry and insist on flying down. She can’t take it.”

Hannibal nodded silently, his eyes dancing over my naked form. “Do you have to edit right away?” he asked, his eyes darkening.

“Yes, Hannibal, I do. I need to send them in as soon as possible.”

He stood, his powerful frame straightening. “I’ll go get your computer,” he said. “You can edit in bed, I trust?” I nodded and watched him leave silently. He brought my red laptop in within a few minutes and put it by the pillows. He then moved to me, using a finger to move some curls from my face. He leaned down and kissed me lightly, just a gentle brush. Then his hands went to my shoulders, gently guiding me back to lay against the pillows. He smoothed my hair back and handed me the laptop.

“What will you do, Hannibal?” I asked.

His phone rang next to the bed and he sighed. “I guess we’re not going to have our quiet day,” he said, almost regrettably. He went to his side of the bed and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?” he said. “Yes, Jack. No, we still need the clothes. Yes, I’m sure she’ll appreciate it. Thank you, Jack. See you then.” He placed the receiver back in its place and turned to me. “Jack and Will will be here with your clothes in about twenty minutes. Would you like me to take you to your room or would you like to get dressed and come downstairs?”

I sighed and rested my head against the pillows for a moment, then looked up at him. “I’ll come downstairs. May I borrow another shirt?”

He gave me a wicked grin. “You may borrow whatever you like,” he responded. He went to his closet just beside the bathroom door and opened it, flicking on a light. “Would you prefer another one like yesterday or something else?”

“Do you have any sweaters?” I asked. I heard a rustling and saw him withdraw a cream sweater, a diagonal design of boxes rippled across it. It would no doubt be huge on me, but it looked soft and warm.

“Will this do?” he asked, showing it to me. I nodded and he gave me a soft smile, bringing it to the bed. “Are you going to wear your same pants again?”

“Yes, Hannibal,” I answered. “I’ll need a fresh pair of panties, however. I’ll just go get them.” I started sitting up and he made a sound low in his throat, almost a growl.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” he said calmly. I settled back and gave him a timid smile. “Where are they and I’ll grab a pair for you.” I told him that they were in my suit case and off he went to collect them.

I was dressed and ready in ten minutes. Hannibal had gotten a hair tie from my overnight bag, as well, and brought it in. My curls were a mess after last night and I piled them high on my head, wrapping the band around them. Hannibal carefully wrapped my foot and put the boot on. He wore black slacks and a red sweater, the sleeves pushed up over his forearms. His feet were bare, as was mine. He lifted me gently, our bodies pressed together, and kissed me lightly, slowly sweeping his tongue in my mouth. I felt something low jerk.

“Hannibal, they’ll be here anytime now,” I said against his mouth.

“You’re right,” he said, turning with me still in his arms. He released me with one arm and swept it under my legs, cradling me to his chest. “I’ll take you downstairs into the living room. You can edit your novel and I’ll work on my composition.”

“You compose?” I asked, reaching back and grabbing my laptop from the bed. He had to bend slightly for me to reach it.

“Yes, on a harpsichord,” he said when we were finally on our way downstairs. “I’ve been writing my own music for years.”

“I’d love to hear it,” I murmured against his neck, planting a soft kiss there. His stubble scratched my lips lightly and I nuzzled my nose against him. He leaned his head against the top of mine as we descended the stairs.

The living room was more like a sitting room. I’d noticed that there was no television anywhere in the house. I guess he wasn’t a fan of TV. The room had yellow wallpaper with white designs on it. One window in the front with yellow drapes over it. Beside the window were two chairs, emerald green in color. Not far was a light tan couch with circular pillows on either end. Behind the couch was a table with a square lamp and what looked like horns decorating on either side. There were bouquets of yellow and red flowers on either side of the couch on end tables. A harpsichord was to the right of the window, black, elegant, and sleek. He put me down on one of the green chairs facing the harpsichord. 

“I’ll go get your crutches from the dining room,” he said as I settled in. The seat was long and I bent my legs to the side, my right under my left, and balanced my laptop on my lap. I watched him leave and smiled to myself. He was so gentle with me, but there was a violence in him, thinly veiled in all that aristocratic behavior. I could tell it was there, but it didn’t frighten me. He promised that I had nothing to fear and I believed him.

The doorbell rang just as he laid the crutches against the couch. I glanced up to him from my laptop screen, my heart jumping into my throat. He gave me a gentle smile and turned to answer it. I heard men entering and looked out of the entry way. There was a man with a box, no doubt filled with my clothes and he placed it by the stairs. I heard Agents Crawford and Graham talking to Hannibal.

“Yes, she’s just this way,” Hannibal said, directing them into the living room. I smiled from my seat in greeting.

“Miss Smith,” Crawford said brightly. “You’re looking well today.”

“I have an excellent caretaker,” I said, tilting my head and glancing at Hannibal. He gave me a slight wink and turned back to Crawford and Graham.

“Has anything new happened, Jack?” he asked.

“There has been something,” he said uneasily. “We found a body.”

“A body?” I asked, sitting up more. My brow creased in confusion. “I thought you said he was fixated on me. That he wouldn’t target anyone else.”

Crawford sighed, his eyes going down to the marbled floor. I wasn’t going to like this. “It was the body of your neighbor,” he said slowly, his eyes flicking up to my face.

“Not Percilla,” I said breathlessly.

“No, it was Henry,” he said. “I’d like Dr. Lecter to come and view the crime scene. See if he has any input on it.” He turned to Hannibal and his face was empty, no indication of how he felt.

Hannibal pursed his lips and looked at me. “I can’t leave Mattea alone,” he reminded him. “She’s still much too frail to go along. I’m sorry, Jack. I’ll have a look at the photos, if you have any, but I won’t leave her here.”

“Dr. Lecter,” Graham said quietly. “We can leave some agents behind with Miss Smith while you go with us. I don’t think it will take long.”

Hannibal gave him a grim look. “I’m sorry, Will,” he said. “I won’t leave Mattea with anyone but myself. I’ve promised her that she will be safe in my home and I have no way of ensuring that if I’m not here. I’ll look at the photos, but I won’t leave.” His voice was firm, but not harsh. He looked at both men in the eye as he spoke, his accent thick and his hands clasped behind his back.

“Very well, Doctor,” Crawford said. “I’ll call over and get some photos delivered. If you don’t mind, we’ll stay here and wait.”

Hannibal nodded stiffly. I don’t think he liked the fact that we wouldn’t be getting our alone time, and I wasn’t sure how he felt about looking at crime scene photos around me. I very much doubted he’d do it in the same room. He turned to me then, tilting his head to the side.

“Would you like anything to eat, Mattea, or just coffee?” he asked, his hands still behind his back. He looked so casual. I doubted that Crawford and Graham saw him like this normally. I was impressed at his stubbornness to stay behind with me.

“Just coffee would be wonderful, Hannibal, thank you,” I replied, eyes going down to my laptop. He offered coffee to both gentlemen, who both declined, and went into the kitchen. I was left alone with them.

“What are you doing?” Graham asked quietly.

I glanced over to him and gave him a small smile. “I’m reviewing a few chapters before I email them into my editor. I was supposed to have done it this morning, but with everything going on, it slipped my mind.”

Crawford gave me a dubious look and made a sound in his throat. I think he suspected that Hannibal and I had gotten close during our time together. I hoped he didn’t guess just how close we were. I swallowed and went back to reading.

“How has Dr. Lecter been treating you while you’ve been here?” he asked, moving closer to me.

I looked at him over my screen. “He’s been a very gracious host. He’s made sure I’ve wanted for nothing,” I said, tilting my head to the side. I raised an eyebrow. “Why? Did you expect anything different?”

“No, of course not,” Crawford said, clasping his hands in front of him. “Dr. Lecter wouldn’t be rude enough to not attend you properly. Just how much attending do you need?”

My eyebrow raised higher. He was asking if Hannibal and I were what? Something more than just caretaker and houseguest. “He’s become a good friend,” I answered. “I can talk to him about anything and he’ll listen to what I have to say. He’s helped me deal with the trauma of a man stalking me to kill me. I’ve come to trust and rely on him. Why do you ask, Agent Crawford?”

“Jack,” Graham warned.

“He seems very comfortable around you,” Crawford continued. “He lets his guard down with you, doesn’t he?”

“As I have with him,” I answered simply. He was tap dancing and seeing if I’d join in.

“Jack, stop,” Graham said again.

“Stop what?” Hannibal asked as he came into the room, carrying a small tray with two cups, a carafe of no doubt cream as well as coffee. He brought it over to the table that was beside me, looked me over and took in my stiff posture. He frowned and turned. “Are you being naughty, Jack? Are you upsetting Mattea?”

“I was just asking how things were going between you two,” Crawford answered with a smile. He put on an innocent face and pretended he wasn’t trying to pull information from me. It made me think less of him.

“We’re doing fine, as we’ve both told you,” Hannibal said, his posture stiff. “She is getting to be a better patient and listening to doctor’s orders, staying off her ankle like she’s supposed to. She’s currently working. I think it best that you leave her to it.” His protective streak was coming out. It would pique Crawford’s interest. I didn’t think that was a good idea, but Hannibal wasn’t having any of it.

“Very well, Doctor,” Crawford said. “Did you two have anything planned for today?”

“As I said, she’s working and came down to listen to me play. She’s never heard the harpsichord. I would like to finish up my composition today. We only planned on having a quiet weekend.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt your quiet weekend,” Crawford said slowly. Yep, he knew something was up. He moved to sit on the couch, taking his coat and hat off as he drew closer. I watched him over the top of my laptop, frowning. How far would he take it?

“It’s quite alright,” Hannibal replied. He still stood stiffly, almost directly between Crawford and me. He was making sure they knew he’d protect me from them, too.

“How is my dog, Agent Graham?” I asked to change the subject and hopefully ease the tension that was tightening the air in the room.

Graham smiled slightly, adjusting his glasses. “He’s doing fine,” he said. “He’s right in line with the other dogs and has established himself in the pecking order. He still looks for you. Maybe we can ask Dr. Lecter to have you visit?”

Hannibal turned to me, looking at me over his shoulder. His lips were upturned in a small smile and his eyes glittered a bit. “If you’d like it,” he said to me.

“I would, Hannibal, thank you,” I responded, giving him a warm smile. “When would be a good time for you, Agent Graham?”

"Anytime, as long as it’s after hours,” he answered. “I can call Dr. Lecter with my schedule next week and we can plan from there.”

“Sounds lovely, thank you, Agent Graham.”

“Jack, if you would call about the crime scene photos,” Hannibal reminded gently. Crawford nodded, stood, and left the room, pulling his phone out of one of his coat pockets.

Hannibal returned to me, making me a cup of coffee. He handed it to me with a wink. “Cream, correct?” I nodded and took the cup, raising it to my lips and smelling it deeply. It was rich and earthy. I took a sip and savored it.

“Thank you, Hannibal,” I said, putting the cup to the side. I turned back to my computer, reading silently while Hannibal and Graham talked about the crime scene. I tried very hard not to listen. It wasn’t long before there was a knock at the door and Crawford answered it. Must be the photos. 

“Will you be alright here, Mattea?” Hannibal asked as Crawford entered the room, a large envelope in his hand. I nodded and took another sip of my coffee as they left the room, Hannibal glancing over his shoulder at me before he disappeared around the corner.

I barely noticed the time go by. I finished one chapter and was half way through the other when the three men came back into the room. My eyes went to Hannibal, seeing his face serene. He looked as if he’d just been looking at prints of art. There was no hint of turmoil in his gaze as it locked with mine. He stopped in front of me and tilted his head, his slightly wild hair brushing his brow. I remembered what it felt like in my hands from last night and I closed my eyes for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Mattea,” Hannibal said softly. “Your neighbor is gone. His wife has entered police custody for her own protection. This was our killer’s attempt of drawing you out into the open. He thought if he caused a scene that you would emerge from protection and try to play the hero. He’s underestimated your caretaker’s stubbornness. I won’t allow you to leave the house again unless I’m with you.”

I sighed, a pang of remorse going through me. Henry had been a good neighbor. They were nice to me, waved to me when I was out playing with Frank. They talked to me over the fence and invited me over for dinner a few times. I’d always politely declined, but they would still ask. I took a deep breath and sighed. I felt tears stinging my eyes and closed them tightly, feeling those tears tumble down my cheeks. 

Hannibal knelt down beside me in a moment, his hands closing my laptop and moving it somewhere to the side. He grasped my hands gently, comfortingly. He made soft hushing sounds, fingers dashing the tears away. 

“He is out of pain, Mattea,” Hannibal said quietly. “He is at peace. I’m so sorry that you lost your friend.” I knew he wanted to hold me, to comfort me, but with Agents Crawford and Graham there, he couldn’t do much more than what he was already doing. I sighed and opened my eyes, locking my gaze on his. He was frowning at me, studying me.

“Thank you, Hannibal,” I said, sniffing. My breath shuddered and I took my hands from him, pushing away my tears from my cheeks. My eyes flicked behind him, seeing the agents watching us. “Did he suffer?” I asked them.

Graham turned, clearly uncomfortable. Crawford opened his mouth, then closed it, his eyes on the floor. He took a deep breath and his eyes met mine. “He was tortured,” he said finally. Hannibal looked over his shoulder at him sharply. Crawford made eye contact with him for a brief second, then back to mine. “He died slowly and painfully.”

“Jack,” both Graham and Hannibal said at the same time. 

Crawford looked back at Graham, then to Hannibal, finally back to me. “Dr. Lecter is right. He’s trying to pull you out of hiding. It’s best that you stay here.” He took a deep breath as Hannibal stood, putting his body directly between Agent Crawford and me. He was done with his behavior. 

“I think it’s time you were on your way, Jack,” Hannibal said slowly. He turned his head and looked at Graham. “Will, I’ll see you another time. Thank you for bringing Mattea her clothes. Shall I see you out?”

“No, Dr. Lecter,” Crawford answered. “We’ll see ourselves out. Thank you, Doctor.”

I heard them leave, shutting the door behind them. Hannibal stood still, as if waiting for them to come back inside. His posture was stiff, his thumb running along his fingertips. He was agitated.

I sniffed again, tears still falling. It was like the sound captured his attention and he turned, gathering me up into his arms, pulling me close. He allowed me to stay seated and my arms went around his neck. I squeezed and buried my face in his neck, crying softly. I felt his strong arms around my back, one of his hands petting me gently. His touch went up and down my back in soothing motions. I sighed and just cried. I didn’t worry about ruining his sweater because I hadn’t put any make-up on today. I was fresh faced and only concerned with the fact that I’d lost my neighbor. Life would never be the same again in that house. It was tainted now. There was fear and pain in it.

I drew back slightly and Hannibal let me go, allowing me to settle back against the back of the chair. I used the heal of my hand and wiped the tears from my face roughly.   
Hannibal hushed me, reaching up to sooth my tears away. He tilted his head at me, watching my face.

“I’m sorry Jack was so rude,” he said. My eyes met his and I nodded, miserable. “You didn’t deserve to hear that. Your friend is gone, and I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok, Hannibal,” I whispered around my tears. “I’m glad he told me. I needed to know.”

Hannibal gathered me back to him and pressed a kiss against my neck. “No, you didn’t,” he whispered over my shoulder, his head leaning into mine. His hands went to petting me again, soothing me. “You’ve had so much trauma already. You didn’t need to hear the gory details.”

“I’m ok, Hannibal, I promise,” I said into his shoulder. The soft fabric of the sweater was against my mouth. I breathed him in deeply, sighing into him, my tears drying. He pulled back, his hands going to my upper arms and he searched my face for a lie. I was ok. I was with him. I was safe.

He smiled at me then, just a soft twitch of the lips. “You’re a strong woman, Mattea,” he said to me. “Your strength is astounding. This killer won’t touch you while you’re with me. I promise. And I always keep my promises.” He sat back on his knee, his hands running down my arms and holding my hands lightly.

“I’m safe, Hannibal,” I said, agreeing with him. I gave him a warm smile and sat back against the chair. “I need to finish working and you said you’d play for me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” he said with a smile. He stood in a graceful move. He walked over to the harpsichord and sat down. A moment later, music filled the room. The harpsichord was warm, almost alive. I let it flow over me and I reached for my computer.

We passed time like that, me reading and him playing for a long while, pausing occasionally to make notes on sheet music he had spread out. I finished my editing and sent the pages off to Edna. She would be pleased at five chapters finished this week. It wasn’t the best I’d ever done, but it was far from the worst. I set my computer to the side and looked at him while he played. He was magnificent. Like he was with his cooking. His fingers ran over the keys with a grace and speed that I knew I could never possess. I said as much and he responded that I typed much quicker than he did, especially since he didn’t like computers.

He stopped and looked at me. “Are you finished?” he asked. I nodded and he stood, coming to me. He stood in front of the chair and gazed down at me. I looked up at him, a soft, sad smile on my lips. “I wish I could wash away what Jack said,” he told me carefully. “He has a tendency to be blunt. I didn’t expect him to be so blunt with you.”

“I’m alright, Hannibal,” I said, watching him as he stood there. 

“You’re lying,” he said in a low tone. “You’re sad for your friend. How could you not be?”

“I’m sad, Hannibal, but I can be sad and alright at the same time.”

“You’re absolutely correct,” he said, nodding slightly. “You have conditions, however, that cause you to be more emotional and. . . destructive, at times. I don’t want you to self-destruct on me. I don’t want you to ever self-destruct again. Do you understand me?”

He meant my cutting. There were plenty of sharp objects in the house. I knew his carving knives were razor sharp and I had made note of a scalpel at his writing desk before. I knew I could do some serious damage to myself in this house. I also knew that Hannibal wouldn’t allow it. That he would keep me from it, keep me grounded and secure on the right side of the urges. I knew that I was safe, even from myself with him.

“I understand, Hannibal. I won’t hurt myself. The urges are there and as the stress grows, so does the urge. I’ve fought it for years, though. I can fight it here.”

He rewarded me with a smile. He leaned down over me and I bent my neck to watch him descend. His mouth took mine and I closed my eyes, feeling his soft lips against mine. His hand cupped my jaw, a light caress of skin. He wasn’t hungry for me now. He was comforting me. He was soothing me with his mouth, but not with words. His kiss was soft, searching. I allowed the exploration, didn’t fight it. I was open to him, like a book just waiting for him to read. He knew it and he relished in it.

He just stood there, kissing me. The hand that played across my jaw went to my throat, his fingers wrapping around while his thumb feathered across the front. He felt me swallow him down and he moaned for me. His other hand went to my hair in the very messy bun on the crown of my head. His fingers combed through it, catching on the knots there. I groaned, but not in a good way and he let his hand drop, pulling away.

He only moved far enough for me to look at him. I felt his breath on my face and opened my eyes. He was studying my face, looking me over. His eyes met mine and he gave me a smile. I liked that smile, I decided. I liked it very much.

He stood, going to sit in the other chair across from me. The deep seat caused his posture to slouch as he sat back. His arms rested along the arms of the chair. His face was still smiling lightly and his eyes roamed over me.

“I like seeing you in my clothes,” he said then, his gaze grazing over the sweater that I wore. “I like knowing that you’re comfortable in them. Do you like my clothes, Mattea?”

My smile broadened. I shyly folded my hands, tucking them between my thighs, my eyes going to them. “Yes, Hannibal,” I said finally. “They’re very comfortable. And they smell like you. I like your clothes very much.” I looked up and he was still watching me, his head turned to the side. “What is it, Hannibal?” I asked softly.

“I want you, Mattea,” he said very slowly. “I want to have you, to keep you, to treasure you. I don’t want to ever lose you. I’ve never had this urge before, and it makes me uneasy. There is a man out there looking to possess you. You’re mine and I won’t let him have you.”

I sat forward then, slipping out of the chair and onto my knees. I slowly crawled over to him and he watched me. I climbed up his legs when I reached him, my hands running over the soft slacks. I reached for him and he came to me, his mouth slanting over mine, this time hungry, almost desperate. I knelt there, between his legs, and I kissed him back fiercely. He needed something from me. I didn’t know if it was comfort or reassurance, but whatever it was, I was more than willing to give it to him.

He pulled away, breathing heavily against my skin. I looked up at him, at his closed eyes, the soft frown on his brow. I reached up and smoothed it away and his golden gaze opened, taking me in. I ran my hand down his cheek, his facial hair scratching against my palm. I smoothed his skin and ran my hand down the side of his neck, then over his soft sweater, feeling him breathe. He was still breathing heavily as his eyes searched my face.

“I’m not going anywhere, Hannibal,” I whispered up to him. “I’m right here, with you. I’m not leaving. He’s not going to come here. It’s all ok.”

He scooped me up suddenly, pulling me into his lap. He turned me so that my legs hung over the arm of the chair. One arm around my waist, the other caressing over my brow, down my cheek and over my jaw. He cupped my face and ran his thumb over my lower lip. His touch was light and soft. Searching. He was looking for lies and he found only the truth. He turned me and tucked me against his chest, pulling my head to lean against his shoulder, just holding me. He leaned his head against mine, almost nuzzling me. I felt and heard him sigh, as if content. His hand rested on my thigh, his thumb moving over the soft fabric. He sat there in silence and I listened to his heartbeat, slow and regular. His breathing was even and easy. He was relaxed against me and I relaxed against him.

We sat like that for a long time. I had closed my eyes, drifting into a light sleep. It was more of a doze than a sleep and I was still conscious of everything around me. I felt him touching my thigh, his hand warm and heavy. I felt his arm around my back, his hand resting on the arm of the chair. He just sat there holding me. I felt safe, warm, and comfortable. I was at ease.

Then my phone started ringing in my pocket. I sat up and reached for it. Hannibal stretched a bit around me as I pulled the phone out and looked at the display. “Private Number.” A stab of ice went through me and the peace I felt was instantly erased. Hannibal took the phone out of my trembling hands and slid to answer it.

“H-hello?” I said hesitantly.

“Did you see what I did?” asked the male voice at the other end. “I did it for you. He thought he could keep you from me. He thought he could chase me away. I tried to get him to tell me where you were. He told me that you left with a man from the FBI.” He paused. “I’ll find you,” he promised. “I’ll find you and you will be mine.”

“What do you want from me?” I asked, feeling Hannibal stiffen under me.

“I want you,” he answered. “I want my bride. You’re mine and always will be. I will have what’s mine. This man, whoever he is, can’t keep you from me forever. I’ll keep looking for you and I’ll take out whoever I need to while doing it.”

“You won’t find me,” I said, growing braver. “I’m lost to you. I’m gone. Turn yourself in and you’ll see me again. Only then. You won’t find me.”

“I’ve already found you.” And the line went dead.

I sat there, staring at my phone. He’d already found me? He knew where I was? I looked at Hannibal, his face closed and his eyes glittering as he looked at my phone. He glared at it like it had offended him. 

“H-Hannibal, I-I,” I stuttered, the fear slicing through me. I brought his attention to me and he quickly set the phone somewhere to the side. He scooped me into his arms and pulled me close, my arms going around his neck tightly as I shook.

“Hush, Mattea,” he soothed. “Remember, you’re safe with me. He won’t get you here. He won’t get you.”

“I don’t want you hurt, Hannibal,” I said, quaking in his tight grasp. He nuzzled his head against mine and his hands moved over my back and leg. He held me, he rocked me, he soothed me gently.

“He won’t hurt me, Mattea,” he said to me. “He won’t come here to my home. He’s more in danger here than you are. You’re safe. I won’t let anyone have you.” His hands smoothed over me, soothing me, comforting me.

“Hannibal,” I said, pulling away. I looked him in the eye. “I can’t bare the thought of something happening to you. I can’t stand the idea of you not being there when I wake up. I can’t even think that you would get hurt. It cuts me deeper than any knife ever could. Please, Hannibal, don’t be reckless.”

“Hush, Mattea,” he soothed, his hands going to my face, taking it between them. He made me look at him, didn’t let me move an inch. “He will never get to you, nor will he get to me. You are safe. I am safe. I will take care of you.” He pulled me close again, tucking me into his shoulder, one arm going around me, taking my elbow to hold me, his other hand caressing and petting my face. He murmured that we were safe over and over. He reassured me, he touched me.

My shaking quieted. I began to relax in his embrace. I felt his aggression under his touch. He meant it. He would make sure that nothing touched me, but at what expense? Would he put himself in danger to keep me safe? I closed my eyes tightly at the thought, as if not seeing it would make it untrue. I didn’t want him to make that risk. My heart tightened at the thought. 

“Please, Hannibal,” I whispered, resting my face against his chest. “Don’t put yourself at risk for me. Please. He’ll come for me and he’ll hurt you.”

“No, Mattea,” he said, his voice firm and strong. “I will hurt him.” It was a promise, fierce and true. He would hurt him if he came near me. I knew it was true somehow, deep down. I closed my eyes and wrapped an arm over his waist. I held him as he held me. We held each other in this dance of fear and promise.

“I need to call Jack,” he said finally. “I need to see if they traced that call.”

I shifted up, moving out of his arms. He quickly captured me back to him. “You’re not going anywhere but with me,” he said, looking over my face, as if trying to memorize it. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He let me go enough to tuck his arm under my legs, my arm going around his shoulders. He stood up, all careful grace. He watched my face, moving into the kitchen swiftly. He set me down in the chair in the corner and went to a little cubby I’d never noticed between his fridge and his back door. He picked up a phone and dialed quickly.

“Jack,” he said. It was a statement, not a question. He was still angry with Crawford. He let it show in his voice. “He’s called again. Did you trace the number?” He waited on the line, listening to the other end. “Have you listened to it?” he asked. “I think Mattea has been upset enough for one evening. You can come over tomorrow after you’ve reviewed it and go over it with her. I’m keeping her calm for the rest of the night. That means that I’m taking her phone from her, as well. Even if he calls again, she won’t be answering tonight.” He looked at me then, his eyes dark with promise. It was violence he was promising. I’d somehow gone from perfect stranger to his in the course of just a few days. He would protect me from everyone and everything. That included the FBI. “We’ll be expecting you,” he said finally, then hung up the phone.

“Jack will be here tomorrow morning,” he said to me. “He wants to talk to you.”

“But you don’t want him to talk to me.”

“No, I don’t,” he replied. He moved behind the island with the stove top on it. His eyes dropped and he ran his hand over the smooth top of the counter. “I don’t like the way he talks to you. He is unusually rude and I don’t appreciate it. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.” His eyes flickered up to me, seeing if I was looking at him. Once his eyes met mine, they flicked back down. He didn’t want me to see the violence toiling in them. I knew it was there and it took my breath away.

“Hannibal,” I whispered. He lifted his gaze again. His eyes were almost black with emotion. He was all controlled rage and brutality. The man I knew as gentle was just one side of the coin. There was another side, a darker side. Could I accept him? He was asking that with his eyes. He watched me. He saw me realize his darkness and he watched it play across my face. My eyebrows drew together almost sadly. It was like no one had ever accepted him. “Hannibal, please,” I said again, my hand reaching out to him. I struggled to stand and he was almost instantly beside me, scooping me up, holding me so my face was level with his. I framed his face with my hands and I just looked at him. That violence was still there, tinged with concern. I closed my eyes, leaned in, and kissed his soft lips. 

At first, he didn’t respond. He stood there, completely motionless as my mouth moved over his. Then, he slowly began to kiss me back. It was a gradual increase of passion. Before too long, our mouths moved together in mutual fervor. It was deep, it was thorough, it was heated, searing us both.

He pulled away and rested his forehead against mine. We both breathed heavily. We were melded together along our fronts, our arms around each other. My eyes looked up to see his eyes closed, his mouth slack. Whatever he found in me, whatever acceptance he sought was there for him. I accepted him as he was, knowing that there was so much I didn’t know about him, but not caring.

There was nothing sexual in the way he held me in that moment. It was a need of another kind. He’d told me he wanted me. I didn’t understand what he meant. I was there, in his house, under his care. He had me. I didn’t understand what else he wanted from me, but I wanted to give it to him. Whatever it was.

He slowly slid me down, his eyes opening and watching my face draw away from his. My hands remained at his face, just holding him, looking deeply into his eyes. The golden-brown depths came back into view. The violence was subsiding. He was coming back to me from his darkness. I gave him a soft smile and his mouth ticked up slightly, lips still parted.

“You’ll protect me,” I said slowly, “and I’ll protect you. We’re in this together, Hannibal.”

His hand swept up behind my head, pulling me to his chest, holding me tightly. He smelled my hair from the top of my head, then rested his cheek along it. He stroked my hair lightly, his other arm holding me around my back. 

“Yes, Mattea,” he whispered back to me.

My stomach let out a little growl in the silence and we both stilled. It sounded again and Hannibal pulled away, looking down at me. “You’re hungry,” he observed. “I haven’t fed you today.”

“I’m ok, Hannibal,” I said with a smile.

“Nonsense,” he countered, his mouth turning up into a soft smile. “Let me feed you, Mattea. Let me look after you.”

“Something easy, then,” I said gently. “Nothing too complex, just a simple dish that we can enjoy together.”

“I have just the thing,” he said and he softly pushed me back into the chair. He gave me a quick peck on the lips and turned, waking further into the kitchen. “I’ll make you Soupe à l'Oignon Gratinée.” He opened his fridge and started rummaging around in it.

“What exactly is that?” I asked, sitting back and watching him work.

“It’s fancy for onion soup,” he said with a smirk.

“Fancy?” I asked, laughing lightly.

“Yes, fancy,” and he gave a soft chuckle. He pulled out a stock pot, then took the onions he’d taken out of the refrigerator and started chopping them into fine slices. He put them in the stock pot and began to cook them with butter. I watched him, still in awe of how he cooked.

It took maybe about an hour to an hour and a half, and he was pouring what was in the pot into two small bowls, placing the baguettes he’d toasted and sliced over the top with a grated white cheese and popped them into the oven. He turned to me and smirked.

“I thought I said ‘easy’,” I told him.

“This is easy,” he countered. “It’s a soup for us to share together on this chilly autumn evening. You’re worth the extra effort and I’m happy to give it.” He winked at me.  
I sat back and marveled at him. It was as if the phone call, the death of my neighbor, Crawford’s crass behavior had never happened. It was like we had just spent the day together, me editing and him composing. It was like we’d had our calm, quiet day. He’d swept the trauma of the day away with smiles and onions. It was amazing.

After only a few minutes, he took the bowls out with oven gloves. He placed them, melty and steamy, on his stainless-steel countertop. It smelled amazing, as usual, and my stomach let out another growl. He heard it from where he was standing and his head came up, smiling warmly.

“I knew I could get your appetite up,” he teased. “Just let that sit for a moment and cool. I’ll take you into the dining room.” He moved to me, scooping me out of the chair and hefting me in his arms. I gave a giggle and threw my arms around his shoulders, hugging him to me. He moved me through the kitchen and out into the dining room. He placed me gently in the chair and drew away. He searched my face again, then shook his head slowly.

“What’s wrong, Hannibal?” I asked, tilting my head to the side and frowning up at him.

“I never saw you coming,” he said softly, as if in wonderment. “You were a surprise, but a very good one.” He stood and turned, going into the kitchen for our food.

I was left wondering what he meant. A surprise? How was I a surprise? I didn’t understand, but I didn’t have time to think it over because he was back with our food in moments. He placed a round, white bowl in front of me, steam rising from it. He left a soup spoon beside it and went to his place, setting his food and spoon down gently. He sat, watching my face.

“Have you ever had onion soup?” he asked, taking up his spoon and gently broke through the baguettes over the top of the soup bowl. He took a bite and chewed the baguette slowly, his eyes locking with mine.

“No, I don’t think I ever have.” I mimicked him, using my spoon to push past the bread topping. It smelled amazing. I could smell a hint of the liquor he had put in it. I calmly brought it to my lips, blowing on it gently, then put it in my mouth. Flavors smoothed over my tongue and I gave a soft moan of approval. I ate lazily, talking with him about mundane things. It was like we were desperately trying to keep from talking about whatever happened today.

“You looked beautiful while you edited,” he said casually, eating another bite. “Your eyes moved so quickly over the words, your face was serious with concentration and you made your corrections quickly. I think I’d like to read one of your books.”

My face flamed red and I put down my spoon. “Hannibal, it’s not literature, it’s fluff. It’s high-grade smut sometimes. It can get vulgar. I’m afraid you’d think less of me if you read it.” My eyes went to the bowl in front of me. It was a little more than half empty. I could taste the gentle notes of all the seasonings, the butter, the onions, sweet and soft. He really was an artist in the kitchen.

“I very much doubt you could ever be vulgar,” Hannibal retorted, stirring his spoon through his soup, clinking against the edges of the bowl. He tilted his head. “I like reading many things. I would be willing to give you an honest review.”

I snorted around my food, then blushed furiously, now really smelling it. “No, you wouldn’t, Hannibal,” I said after I was done choking on my food. “You’d say it was amazing, then take me to bed."

He grinned. “You’re correct,” he said with that mind scrambling smile. “But I intend to take you to bed every night.”

I glanced up, then paused, seeing the heat stirring in his golden depts. A slow curl of a smile molded my lips. “Hannibal, we have to sleep sometime.”

“We can spend most of the day tomorrow in bed,” he said, smiling down to his soup, his spoon clinking again. I think he was almost finished.

“Hannibal,” I said slowly, carefully. He wasn’t going to like this. He looked up at me, chewing the onions from the soup. “Tomorrow, I take my dose of methotrexate. I’ll have to be in bed for most of it anyway.”

His face grew grim, lips thinning to a line across his face. He turned his head slightly and put down his spoon, straightening it subconsciously. He looked back up at me slowly. “You’ll be sick,” he observed, remembering what I’d told him about my side effects from before.

I nodded slowly, frowning. I balanced my spoon in my hand, suddenly loosing my appetite. I looked down into the bowl. I was glad to see there was only a little left. I didn’t want to offend him by not finishing. It looked like I was finished.

“Don’t worry, Mattea,” he said gently, making me look back up at him from across the table. “I’ll take care of you; make you comfortable while you’re going through your side effects. I don’t judge you for what you have to do. I only wonder if there wasn’t a better way to curb your symptoms.”

“There are other drugs,” I said, putting down my spoon. “They’re just as dangerous, however. Methotrexate and xelgenz have worked well for me these last six months. I’m really alright, I just get a little sick.”

“You’re omitting again,” he observed. “You’re not lying, but you’re not telling me the whole truth.”

“Really, Hannibal, it’s not that bad. It was horrible on the tablets, but the injections aren’t as bad. I get a little sick and very tired, so I sleep most of the day. That’s why I send my pages in on Saturday, so that I’m not distracted by my side effects. It’s all ok.”

“You said they lasted until the next day,” he said slowly, sitting back in his chair and putting his napkin on the table by his plates. “What do you mean by that?”

“Part of RA is extreme fatigue,” I explained softly. “Before I started on my immunosuppressive therapy, I was tired all the time. I could sleep for fourteen hours a day and still be ready to be back in bed by eight that night. It was awful. It caused my depression to skyrocket and I hated my life. After therapy, I’m still tired, but not so horribly. I’m managing my symptoms as best as they can be managed. It’s the best we can hope for. There is no cure for RA, just therapy to suppress the symptoms.”

I read his expression. He closed down a bit more when I mentioned that there was no cure. He didn’t like that. He couldn’t protect me from everything. He had to know that.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised. “I’ll make sure you’re alright.”

I gave him a sad smile. He was a doctor. I was absolutely certain that he’d looked up the drugs I took and knew the risks involved. I was at risk for so many things, but so far, so good. I knew on some level he understood; he just didn’t like it.

“Are you finished with your food?” he asked. I gave him a nod and he stood, gathering up the dishes. “I’ll be right back.” He left the dining room and I looked after him, frowning. It really bothered him that he couldn’t save me from the ravages of my own body. I felt bad for telling him about it in the first place. He was bound to find out himself once I took my dose, but I hated telling him. At least he knew what to expect.

He was back in the room within a few minutes. He glanced at his watch. “It’s seven o’clock,” he said distantly. “Do you want to stay up, or go to bed for a while?” His eyes flickered up to mine and I slowly smiled.

“What did you have in mind, Hannibal?” I asked, sitting back.

“Well, I’ve explored the front of you,” he said, putting his hands on the back of the chair to my left, his eyes going down to the table. “I think it’s time I explored the back of you.” He looked over at me and I saw his gaze heat up.

“Will you ever grow tired of me?” I asked him slowly.

He shook his head a bit, a smile on his lips. “No, Mattea, I’ll never get tired of tasting you, touching you.” It was a promise, and he always kept his promises.

He moved then, slowly, to stand next to me. I bent my neck to look up at him and he bent at the waist down to me. “You are beautiful to me,” he whispered softly. One hand came up, running from the base of my throat, caressing up to my jaw. His touch was so light it sent goosebumps across my skin and I closed my eyes. Then his mouth took   
mine, lazily exploring. His lips were so soft, his mouth so gentle. It was almost like he was afraid of hurting me or scaring me away.

“Hannibal,” I whispered against his lips when the kiss broke. “Take me to bed. Please?”

He scooped me up in the next instant, my face going into his neck. I kissed him there, his stubble scratching against my lips. I licked his pulse point and his head went back. My hand lightly played along his throat, feeling him shudder under my touch. He gave a growl and was moving quickly. I kept kissing him softly, reaching his jaw line and nibbling lightly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

We reached the bedroom in moments. I’d kept up my ministrations against his neck the entire way and Hannibal was breathless when he put me down on the bed. He spread me out and one leg knelt between mine, crawling on top of me. He covered me with his body, enveloping me with his heat. He took my mouth with his, just lips moving against mine. I felt him shift up and lean on his elbows round my head. His hands went to my hair, fingers running through it as best he could with the messy bun. I wrapped my arms around his back and pulled him down to lean his weight further down on me.

He pulled back to look down at me. His hair had fallen over his brow and I reached around his arm to sweep it to the side. I ran my fingertips down his cheek and smiled softly at him. He returned the smile and his thumbs feathered over my temples. It wasn’t sexual yet, just soft, gentle, and something more. I couldn’t place it yet. I just never wanted to not see his face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he almost marveled at me. “You don’t know it, but you are. I discover more about you as I look at you, each time.”

“And I you, Hannibal,” I said softly.

He leaned back down and kissed me again, lazily exploring my mouth, as if savoring me. Like I was one of his complex dishes. His hands framed my face, but he didn’t trap me. He let my head move as I returned his kiss. I ran my hands over his back and felt his muscles move. He was strong, able-bodied. I knew he could move over me, within me for as long as he liked.

“Hannibal,” I whispered against his mouth. His eyes opened and looked down at me. “Please, touch me. Feel me.”

He didn’t have to be asked twice. He shifted up, his body leaving mine. He knelt heavily between my legs. He tore the sweater from his torso and threw it. He reached down and did the same to me, revealing the nude lace bra I’d put back on that morning. He looked me over, taking in every curve. He reached down and touched the skin on my stomach and I shuddered for him.

“Sit up, Mattea,” he ordered gently. I pushed myself up and again, he reached behind me and unclasped the bra, sliding it down my shoulders and spilling me out. He sighed when he saw me, nude from the waist up. He leaned down over me again, taking my mouth with more force, more raw passion. His tongue parted my lips and pushed into my mouth, rubbing along mine. I felt his coarse hair rub along my nipples and I sighed softly. My hands reached over his shoulders, holding him to me while he probed my mouth. My hands went to his head, running my fingers through his soft hair. He groaned for me and I smiled against his lips.

He sat up suddenly pulled away and climbed down my body and I could hear the harsh rips of the Velcro coming off my boot. He had it removed quickly, kissing my toes one by one. It was oddly erotic and I arched my back and gasped. He was so gentle with me, but so capable of violence. I could feel it in his body, thinly veiled. 

He reached to my hips, pushing me to roll over, deeper into the bed. I felt his nails scratch as he hooked his fingers under the waist of my leggings. I raised my hips back and he pulled them off slowly, making sure not to hurt me. I heard them discarded somewhere in the room. I felt his body lean down and cover mine again. He came up to kiss my shoulder and I turned my head to look back at him. His eyes were hooded and dark. I felt him slowly kiss to my spine, his lips just grazing my skin. He followed that shallow line down my back, lips kissing and touching my skin. I writhed for him.

He reached my hips and I felt him lick the dimples just above my cheeks. It was lazy, a taste of skin. His weight was evenly distributed over his arms that pinned me to the bed. I raised up on my elbows to look back at him. His eyes were closed, just feeling me under his mouth. 

He kissed further still. I felt his mouth move over each cheek, then a flash of teeth set into the skin. I clenched at the sensation and he growled against my skin. I felt him shift his body more, crawling down my body. His mouth moved down my right leg, licking the pit of my knee and his teeth biting my calf. He moved back up and did the same to my left leg. I was breathless and pushing my hips back.

I felt him move off the bed. I looked back and saw his gaze moving over my skin, almost caressing it. I watched his hands go to his slacks, slowly unbuttoning and sliding the zipper down. He hooked his thumbs in the waist band, taking his black boxers with them. He stood naked beside the bed, just taking me in.

When he leaned back over me, I felt his hand sliding from my calf to my rump, a gentle touch. He then pulled back and landed a light slap against the skin and I gasped, turning my head back to lay against the sheets. I felt his hand splay over the skin of my cheek where he’d slapped, smoothing the soft sting away. He gasped it, gripped it, molded it softly. I moaned for him and felt his lips caress my skin there again over his hand.

He shifted my legs, spreading them for him to kneel between them. He was careful not to jostle my ankle as he knelt, gently pushing it to the side. I pushed back, going up on my knees slightly. I felt his hand slide up to my waist as I lifted for him. He reached further up, leaning on one hand to my side. His hand moved between my breasts and slipped up to clasp my throat. He pulled me up onto my knees, my back flush against his front. I could feel him, hard and eager, pressed against my back. He kissed my shoulder and nuzzled up to my neck. He ran his nose along the line, smelling me in while his hand ran over my throat. I swallowed, trying to bite back a moan and turned my face to him.  
He slanted his mouth over mine in a searing kiss. He nibbled my lip and gave me a little sound deep in his throat.

“Your skin is so soft,” he whispered against my cheek. His other hand reached around to run up my waist to cup my breast. His fingers tweaked a nipple and I gave a shuddering sigh. “Grazi. Mano grazus.” I felt him twitch against my back. “I need you, Mattea. I need to be inside of you.”

He let me fall forward onto my hands. I lifted my hips and felt him lean back. I lay my head down, arching my back further and felt him at my entrance. He pushed in slowly, his hands going to my hips. I felt his invasion from behind and I gasped for him, pushing back, wanting him deep inside. He held me still, taking his time until his hips met mine. He pushed hard against me, making sure he was fully in me. He was deeper than before. I felt him reach the end of me, bumping lightly.

He began to move slowly. Receding from me, then pushing back in to bump me. I gave a soft, guttural moan and looked behind me. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed, and his mouth open slightly. He pushed and pulled, always bumping. He could feel me around him, clutching him, holding him inside my wet heat. I could feel him penetrating me deeply. I clenched around him and watched his head fall forward as he groaned. 

It was slow at first, his movements. Soft and gentle. His hands moved over my hips. I could feel his gaze where our bodies met. As time went on, his thrusts grew faster, harder, rougher. I relished in it, pushing back for him, meeting his hips. The sound of our bodies clashing together slapped and echoed in the room. I was close, feeling myself tighten around him.

“Hannibal,” I gasped out.

“Yes, Mattea,” he panted. “Let yourself go. Explode for me.” And I did a moment later. I shouted into the sheets, my mouth open as he thrust into me. I knew he wouldn’t be far behind me. I felt the sweat from his brow drip onto my cheeks and run down where our bodies slapped together. “Are you ready for me?” he asked while I groaned over and over.   
“Hannibal, please,” I gasped out, begging for him.

He thrust deep, shoving inside me so hard it almost hurt. I was in such a state of bliss that I didn’t care. I felt him jerk, I felt him spill. He thrust into me over and over, his hands clenching my hips to hold me still. I glanced back and found his face tight, his mouth turned down and his teeth exposed, like he was growling at me. His body twitched with every thrust until he slowly quieted until he just knelt behind me, still inside of me. He was still hard, still thick. I was so fuzzy with my own climax that I closed my eyes and just allowed it to take me.

Slowly, he pulled out. I fell onto my stomach and I felt him fall onto his heels. We were both gasping for air, great gulps of desperation. My hands clenched the sheets painfully and I slowly unwound my fingers from them.

“Are you alright?” he asked, running his hands along my parted legs. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, Hannibal,” I whispered. “You never hurt me.” He crawled onto my left side, almost falling down next to me. I looked at him, seeing his hair plastered against his wet brow. His eyes were closed, his brow creased. I closed my eyes and just focused on my breathing, trying to slow it.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw him looking over my face. I turned further to him, putting my right arm straight along my body and pushing up with my left. He looked over my body as I revealed it to him. The sheets were moist with my sweat where my chest and face had pressed against it, my skin sticking to it lightly.

He reached up to run a finger over my shoulder and down my bent arm. “I knew I wanted to see you like that,” he sighed. I gave him a light laugh and pushed all the way onto my back, careful as I rolled over.

“You’re sweaty,” he observed, running his finger along the sticky skin from my throat, between my breasts and down to my navel. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m very good right now,” I said with a laugh.

“You haven’t bathed,” he said suddenly.

“Neither have you,” I countered with a sigh.

“I want to bathe you. I want to wash away the sweat, the mess. May I?”

“If that’s what you desire, Hannibal. I don’t mind.” He smiled at me, then rolled off the other side of the bed, going into the bathroom. A moment later, I heard the water running. I knew he had a deep clawfoot tub in there and I was looking forward to relaxing in it. 

He came out a few minutes later, still naked, still beautiful. He came to the side of the bed, eyes watching me. I saw a gentle command in his golden gaze. I rolled and crawled to him, slowly reaching up his body when I reached him. He bent down, his hands running down my back, then wrapping his strong arms around me when my mouth reached his. Our tongues danced together and he lifted me, pulling me up his body. I wrapped my legs around his waist, clutching him to me. He gave me a gentle moan and continued kissing me, turning and walking into the bathroom.

He sat me down on the toilet and knelt, propping my hurt ankle against his knee. He slowly unwrapped it, frowning at the bruising that was still there. He ran his fingers lightly down my ankle to my toes, just the slightest of touches.

“It’s not healing very well, though you’ve stayed off it for a few days,” he observed, his face still creased in a frown. He raised his gaze to mine and reached for me. I moved my foot so it didn’t get bumped and he hooked his arms under mine, wrapping them around me and bringing me up along the line of his body. “I’ll get you well again, Mattea.” Then he placed a soft kiss against my mouth.

He moved me slowly, softly, to the tub. I lifted my feet as he leaned in to put me in the warm water. It was soothing against my skin and I pulled away to lower myself into it, laying back against the slope of the tub. I sighed as the water washed around me, coming up to my neck and covering me completely. I heard him go into the other room, coming back after a few minutes. I heard him put a chair behind the tub before I felt his hands reach into the water to touch my shoulders. He’d grabbed a soft sponge from somewhere and it lightly scratched down my left shoulder, between my breasts, then sweeping over my left one. I sighed softly and closed my eyes.

“Relax, Mattea,” he said slowly both above and behind me. He washed me slowly, that sponge moving over my skin. Once he was satisfied, he reached for my hair. He pulled the elastic from it gently, though my curls knotted over it. He let my hair fall over my shoulder and into the water, the curls messy and tangled. I heard him stand and looked to see him going into the shower, retrieving my shampoo and conditioner. He sat back behind me and I felt him gently guide me into slipping lower into the tub. The water rushed up to frame my face and I closed my eyes, feeling his fingers working the water through my hair. 

I opened my eyes and looked up into his placid face. He locked eyes with me, his face never changing as he reached down to cup my head, pulling me up. I had to sit up so he could get to all of my hair, the water ticking around my arms and chest. I felt his hands start to work shampoo through my hair.

“Such lovely locks,” he murmured as his hands reached my scalp. He gently massaged it, working his fingers through to wash every strand. He was so soft, considerate of the knots and tangles that were no doubt there. 

After a moment, he pulled me back down into the water. I watched his face as he worked to rinse the shampoo from me. His gaze was locked on my hair, rubbing my scalp and gently shaking the strands to rid me of the soapy substance. He looked at me and smiled softly, just a slight upturn of the mouth, his eyes warming. His hands pulled me back out and sat me up again. 

Next came the conditioner. He worked it slowly from my tips, running his fingers through each strand and gently untangling each knot. It was so slow, like he was gently petting me instead of bathing me. Once his fingers reached my scalp I tilted my head back, giving him a soft moan. He ran his fingers, massaging again with one hand, his other no doubt holding my hair above the water. 

“Are you comfortable, Mattea?” he said softly from behind me. I nodded under his fingertips and smiled to myself. I was perfect. He pulled me back again and submerged me, working his fingers to wash away the conditioner. He was slow and purposeful with his movements. When he pulled me back up, he guided me to lean against the back of the tub, his hands going to my shoulders. Slowly, he worked his fingers against the muscles and I groaned as he kneaded me. His thumbs worked my back and his fingers splayed across my collar bones.

“So small,” he whispered, as if to himself. “Like a doll. Taurusis.”

We sat like that for a while, his hands moving over my arms in that slow stroking, resting my arms against the rim of the tub. He took his time, making sure I relaxed. I was almost asleep when he moved away. I opened my eyes heavily and watched him go to get some fresh towels. These were blue, just light blue. He pulled me out of the water, the warmth running down my body. He wrapped a towel around my front and tucked it in behind me and my arms reached around his shoulders. He pulled my hair out of the towel and wrapped the other soft fabric around it, squeezing the water out. His mouth slanted over mine, taking it demandingly. He wrapped his arms around me, clutching me to him and lifted me out of the tub. He didn’t put me back down until I reached the bed. I could feel the edge of the bed on my calves. His mouth never left mine, feeding from me.

He pulled away and looked into my eyes. “Do you feel better?” he asked.

“I never felt bad,” I answered, giving him a soft smile. 

He slowly set me onto the edge of the bed, pulling the towel from my head. He moved to kneel behind me, running the soft fabric over my scalp and down around the strands.

“Do we need your blow dryer?” he asked. I shook my head.

“I’ll just braid it for tonight. It won’t get matted as long as I take care of it quickly.”

“Allow me,” he said, getting up and going back into the bathroom to retrieve my hair elastic. He knelt behind me and I felt his fingers gently comb through my hair from root to tip. I could feel him section my hair into three, then gently fold them together all the way to the tip. I leaned back on my hands, enjoying the sensation. He secured it with the elastic, then moved up to kiss me on the forehead.

“I’ll dry you off and tuck you into bed,” he said, his accent thick and curling the words.

“Yes, Hannibal,” I murmured softly. Suddenly, I was so tired. 

I felt him move, felt him pull the towel from around me. He gently caressed me with it, starting at my face and running down to my toes, giving them a soft kiss.

“Hannibal,” I said, looking down the line of my body at him while he gently patted down my left ankle. He looked up at me, his face placid and serious. “I need my moisturizer from the bathroom toiletries bag. He flashed a smile and stood, turning to go into the other room. I heard him rummage through the bag, then come out a moment later with a small container of lotion. He handed it to me and I opened it, scooping my finger to collect a small amount. He watched me rub it into the skin of my face with his head tilted, no emotion, no flicker of heat, just watching.

“Is that your secret for such smooth skin?” he asked me. I opened my eyes and smiled.

“It’s always good to moisturize,” I said back, handing him the container after I put the lid back on. He moved to put it on the nightstand next to the bed. He then went to get the wrap for my ankle, kneeling again in front of me.

“I’ll need to go get your pain prescription from downstairs,” he said calmly. “I’ll do that while you’re taking your pills after you’re tucked in.”

“Hannibal, I can’t be properly tucked in until your arms are around me,” I said teasingly. His mouth ticked up on one side and he nodded, finishing with my foot.

He stood and moved me back with his body, pushing me back against the pillows after I crawled up the bed and he crawled up over me. He lay his length along my side, cupping my face and seeking my mouth with his. He kissed me gently before pulling away, standing and pulling the blankets up over me.

“I’ll be right back,” and he disappeared out the door, still naked.

I turned to lean onto my side, reaching for my pill bottles. One by one, I poured my doses into my hand. I took a drink of the water he’d left me, swallowing them down just as he came back into the room, lights shutting off as he moved through the house. I loved seeing him naked and wondered if he’d finally trust himself to sleep with me like that. He stood beside my side of the bed and handed me a large pill. He watched me as I put it in my mouth and took another drink of the water, swallowing it down. I glanced up and he reached to pet my still damp hair.

“Are you ready to sleep?” he asked.

“As long as you’re sleeping with me,” I said.

He smiled at me and crawled over me, pulling the blankets back and settling in behind me. His arms reached out and pulled my back along his front, one arm going around my neck, the other wrapping around my waist. He hugged me to him and laid a gentle kiss along my hair, taking a deep breath. I settled in, one hand resting against the bed, the other on his arm around my waist. I sighed and closed my eyes, drifting off to his gentle caress along my shoulder.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mattea does her treatment. Jack comes with bad news.

Hannibal was gone when I woke up in the morning. His side of the bed was empty. For a moment, I panicked. Where had he gone. Then I heard the shower running in the bathroom. He must be washing the sweat from himself. I leaned back and closed my eyes. I pictured him there, naked with water running down him. I pictured him running soap over his chest, his stomach, then lower. I felt something shift low and I sighed, opening my eyes.

I was laying there, staring at the slanted ceiling when he emerged from the bathroom, a towel tucked around his waist and his hair brushed, slicked back by the water. Water made his light brown hair darker, giving his face a shadow. He didn’t notice I was looking and he went to the dresser, pulling out some briefs and socks. He held them in his hand and went to the closet, flicking on the light and rummaging around. I watched the muscles on his back work as he chose his clothes for the day. He turned and finally noticed I was watching him. He gave me a little smile and walked to the bed, light grey slacks and a darker gray sweater in his other hand. He laid the clothes on the bed, crawling up and resting his chest over my arm and half way onto mine. His hand reached and cupped my face, feathering his thumb over my cheekbone.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said softly.

“You didn’t wake me, Hannibal,” I reassured him. “It was just time to wake up.”

He reached up and planted a kiss on my lips, then crawled back down the bed.

“Jack will be here in about an hour,” he said as he dressed himself. I watched him move, seeing his muscles work under his skin. “I’ve brought up the box of clothes from downstairs. They’re just outside in the hallway. If you’re ready to get dressed, I’ll bring it in.”

“That would be lovely, Hannibal, thank you,” I said as I watched him pull on the sweater. His hair was tousled when his head popped through the neck hole and my fingers itched to smooth it. He gave me a light smile and went out to retrieve the box. He set it down next to the bed and opened it with a smooth jerk.

“I trust you can find what you need,” he said when he stood. I nodded to him and he helped me sit up. “After breakfast, I’ll give you another pain pill. It might help with the side effects of your methotrexate. When do you usually take it?”

“Right after I get up,” I said distantly, fishing out another pair of leggings, these ones a deep blue, and a darker blue, half sleeved sweater of my own. I grabbed a matching blue pantie and bra set and put them on the bed.

“Do you need help getting dressed?”

“I think I can manage,” I said as I threw my legs over the edge of the bed. I accidentally bumped my foot on the floor and hissed.

Hannibal knelt by me quickly, taking the ankle up and gently kissing it, as if he could make the pain go away. “Careful,” he whispered against my skin. He pulled back and allowed me to slip on my panties and leggings, helping me stand when I needed it. He sat me down while I pulled on my bra, then the sweater over my head, pulling the long, thick braid out from the back. He was putting on my wrapping around my ankle as I dressed.

“Ready?” he asked, grabbing the boot. I nodded and he set to work putting it on. His hands smoothed up my thigh when he finished and he spread my legs to kneel between them, pulling me into his arms. He held me closely, my head resting on his shoulder and my arms wrapping around him. He nuzzled his head against mine and sighed.

“I’m afraid you’ll be so sick today,” he murmured, his chest vibrating against mine. “Do you want me to give you the shot?”

“No, Hannibal,” I said. “I’ve been doing it for years. I can manage. If you’d bring me my bag, I’ll get the vial out.”

He sighed again and pulled away, standing. He went into the bathroom and grabbed my bag. He brought it to me and put it beside me, sitting down on the other side of it, folding his hands between his legs. He watched me reach in and slide open a pouch inside the bag. I pulled another prescription bottle out with a package of insulin syringes. I opened the bottle and spilled one of the vials into my hand. The blue cap was already off since this would be my second dose out of it. I tried not to notice him watching me carefully as I took a syringe out, uncapped it and stuck it into the bottle.

“You should sanitize it first,” he commented too late.

“I’m ok, Hannibal,” I said as I drew the stopper down. I had to tilt the bottle so I could get the full mL into the syringe.

“You take that much?” he asked. I looked up as I drew the needle out of the bottle. I nodded slowly, pulling my shirt up.

“Stop,” he said as I brought the needle to my skin. “You need an alcohol swab or it will get infected. Do not put that needle in your skin.” It was a warning and I slouched, letting my shirt fall back down around me. He stood and went into the bathroom. I heard him rummaging around and he was back out with a cotton swab and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He poured a little of it onto the cotton swab as he sat back down. He didn’t insist on doing it himself, instead handing it to me. I smiled.

The alcohol was cold against my skin as I swept it lightly. I handed the damp, puffy cotton ball back to him, tucking my shirt under my chin. I then looked down at my stomach, putting the needle against my skin. I felt his eyes on me as I pushed the needle into my skin with a soft popping sensation. I pushed the plunger down slowly, the bright yellow fluid going into me. Once it was empty, I pulled the syringe out and sighed, dropping my shirt.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a sharps container, would you?” I asked him. I looked over at him, seeing him still staring at my stomach where I’d just injected myself. He nodded absently and reached to take the capped needle from me.

“How long does it take for the side effects to start?” he said softly, thoughtfully.

“About a half hour and then the headache kicks in,” I explained. “The nausea starts not too long after that.”

“Let’s feed you quickly, then,” he said simply, then scooped me into his arms. I rested my head against his shoulder, my arm draped there. I sighed, content to be carried. Strange how quickly things change.

We were in the kitchen cooking omelets with sausage when the doorbell went off. I stiffened and Hannibal gave me a reassuring smile.

“That will be Jack,” he said moving around his island. “I’ll just go let him in. You stay here.” I nodded and he walked out of the room. I’d forgotten that Crawford was coming over. The telephone conversation from last night replayed in my head and I shuddered. 

I could hear both men before they came in. Hannibal was carefully warning Crawford that his behavior from yesterday would not be allowed to be repeated. I heard Crawford offer an apology and Hannibal said it wasn’t him that he should apologize to. I sat with my hands folded in my lap, my back straight, and my posture stiff. My thick braid was trapped between my back and the back of the chair and I leaned forward to tug on it lightly. The men entered the room a moment later.

“Miss Smith,” Crawford said brightly, giving me a toothy smile.

I returned his smile and nodded to him. “Good morning, Agent Crawford,” I responded.

“How are you feeling today? Is the foot getting any better?”

I shook my head slowly. “It will take time, a lot more time thanks to my RA. It slows the healing process. An injury that would normally take a week to heal takes me around three.” I felt rather than saw Hannibal’s head snap up from his place behind the counter. He obviously hadn’t read that far when he researched my condition.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Crawford said, his smile turning to a frown.

“It’s life,” I shrugged.

“I, uh,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry for being so rude yesterday. I get on edge when bodies pop up. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“It’s ok, Agent Crawford,” I said with a soft smile. “I understand stress. You don’t need to apologize to me.”

Crawford gave me a smile, then looked over at Hannibal, who was flipping an omelet over onto itself. He was trying not to seem like he was listening in. Crawford took a deep breath, shifting his weight on his feet. I could tell that he was in his typical three-piece suit with a hat, gloves and a long black coat over it all. He was nervous, uncomfortable. I wondered what else Hannibal had told him in the hallway.

“We need to discuss that phone call, Miss Smith,” Crawford eventually said, watching Hannibal plate the omelets onto his fine china. Always the china. I smiled and shook my head, watching him take the plates into the dining room.

I suddenly realized that we’d left my crutches in the living room. I frowned and wondered how Hannibal intended I get into the dining room with Crawford here. I looked up at the tall, dark man as his eyes followed after Hannibal. He turned to me, looking somewhat uncomfortable. Oh, boy was he in for it.

Then Hannibal was back into the room, striding over to me. He looked down at me and gave me a small smile. “Are you ready to eat, Mattea?” he asked me. I nodded and he bent to scoop me up. I yelped in surprise and Hannibal just pretended that Crawford wasn’t there. The man was positively gawking at us as he carried me through the room and into the next. When Hannibal set me down in my chair, he winked at me mischievously. He’d done it on purpose just to flaunt it in front of Crawford. That sly man.

Crawford came in a moment later. He was more than a little uncomfortable now and stood close to the door while Hannibal took his seat, scooting himself into the table. I could see the wheels working. Now I was positive he knew what was up.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Hannibal said, folding his linen napkin in his lap. “I didn’t know when you would be here or I would have made enough for you.” It was a lie, but a polite one. I may have forgiven Crawford, but he hadn’t.

“That’s quite alright, Doctor,” Crawford said. He gave a weak smile and turned to me. I was eating my first bite of the omelet. Decadent, as usual. “I’ve listened to the recording. Unfortunately, the call was traced to a local business not far from here. They allow their patrons to use the phone whenever asked. We didn’t get a description of him, but it was enough to hear what he said to you.”

My eyes shot to Hannibal, who was calmly eating his omelet, chewing slowly. His eyes were down to his food, not looking at anyone. I noticed his posture was stiff. My heart thundered in my ears. He knew where we were. He would be coming for us. Distantly, I felt my headache coming on, not sure if it was exacerbated by the stress. I frowned, setting down my fork and reached up to hold my suddenly pounding head.

“Miss Smith?” came Crawford’s voice. I heard a chair scrape across the floor, then felt a warm body kneel beside mine. I felt hands reach up and grab my arm gently, drawing it away from my head.

“She’s sick, Jack,” Hannibal’s voice explained. “She takes a chemotherapy drug for her immunosuppressive therapy. It makes her ill. I had rather hoped we’d get some food into her before the side effects started.”

“I’m right here,” I mumbled through the pain, eyes still closed, one hand rubbing at my temple.

“Yes, you are,” Hannibal said. “And here you will remain.” He moved away then, his hand lightly running along the exposed skin of my arm. “Please try and eat as much as you can.”

He moved away then. I heard Crawford ask about me and Hannibal said, “I’m afraid you’ll have to hurry, Jack. It only gets worse from here.” I heard the chair get scooted under the table and a fork against china. He was back in his place, eating his omelet. 

“I’m sorry, Miss Smith,” Crawford said through the haze. “I didn’t realize you did your treatment today.” 

I slowly opened my eyes. The room was dim enough that it didn’t make the pounding worse. I looked down at my plate and reached for my fork. I wanted to at least try for half. I took a bite and looked up at Crawford’s searching gaze. I chewed and swallowed quickly, my head throbbing. 

“I didn’t tell you I was, so I don’t know how you would know,” I answered him. “Please, ask your questions.”

“It’s not really questions,” Crawford said, pulling the chair to my left out and sitting. He was awkward and uncomfortable. His eyes searched mine and found only pain. “He’s found you and where you’re staying. I’d like to move you to a new location so he can’t find you again.”

“That’s out of the question, Jack,” Hannibal said from across the table. His voice was firm and absolutely resolute. “She’s staying here with me. I’ll keep her safe.”

“Doctor, not to be disrespectful, but you’re only a doctor,” Crawford said, turning to look at him. “Do you even own a gun?”

Hannibal shook his head, taking another bite and chewing it calmly. “I won’t need one,” he said finally. “You’ll place more security around my home and you’ll know when he crosses into my territory. You’ll stop him before he gets to her.”

I knew that’s not what he meant. I knew he meant he’d take care of me. I knew that he didn’t need a gun to protect me. I sighed and felt my pulse in my head, wave after wave of pain. I took another bite and chewed slowly.

“We are planning on putting more security on her, but not here,” Crawford said.

“She’s not leaving, Jack,” Hannibal repeated. His voice was stone, blocking him, barring him from taking me. “I promised her I would look after her and I always keep my promises.”

“Then we’ll take you, too,” Crawford said to him.

“No, Jack,” Hannibal responded. “I’ve finally gotten her comfortable in my home. I’m not going to uproot her, especially not when she’s sick.”

I put my fork down and pushed away from the table, feeling my stomach roll. The side effects were happening quickly or I was becoming upset. I wasn’t sure which.

“I’ll be fine here, Agent Crawford,” I mumbled softly, not wanting the sound of voice to make the headache worse. “I’m not leaving. I’m staying here. Short of you picking me up and dragging me out of the house, nothing you say or do will change my mind.”

I heard Crawford sigh. “I’m never going to get either one of you to agree, am I?”

“No, Jack, I’m sorry,” Hannibal said again.

“Fine, I’ll place agents out front and back twenty-four hours a day,” Crawford said slowly. “If anything happens, they’ll call for backup. You’ll be under surveillance.”

“Thank you for understanding, Jack,” I heard Hannibal respond. I heard the clattering of a fork on plates and a chair scoot back. He came to stand beside me. “Mattea,” he said gently. “What are you feeling?”

“I-I have a headache,” I almost whispered. “My stomach is upset. I’m sorry, Hannibal, I don’t think I can eat anymore.”

He crouched down beside me, taking my hand again. “What do you need from me?” he asked simply.

“I need you to take me to the bathroom,” I said in a huff. “Hurry, please.”

He needed nothing else. He scooped me up and rushed me out of the room to the bathroom across the hall. He opened the door and we were inside, the door shut firmly behind us. He sat me on the toilet and smoothed my hair back from my face. 

“Mattea, what do you need?” he asked again.

“I need you to leave the room,” I begged quietly. “I don’t want to be sick in front of you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said calmly. “Do you need me to help you down?”

I nodded and his hands helped me stand and turn. He helped me down to my knees and opened the lid of the toilet just in time. I threw up violently, my stomach trying to crawl out of my mouth. I felt Hannibal’s soft hands smoothing my hairline back, gently moving the braid down my back. He hushed me, soothed me. He let me throw up until it was just bile. I sat back slowly, resting my head on my hand along the rim of the bowl. Hannibal must have reached up and flushed it. I heard a whooshing and felt a light spray of water.

“Mattea, I think it would be best to take you to bed to rest for the day.” I only nodded slowly. I felt him pull me back into him, his arms going under my shoulders and my legs and cradled me close to him. He opened the door and I felt the cooler air of the foyer hit my face. I leaned my head against Hannibal’s shoulder and kept my eyes closed.

“Is she alright?” Crawford asked from somewhere in the aching darkness.

“No, she’s not,” Hannibal answered. “I’m going to put her to bed. I’ll be back down in a moment.” I felt him begin to climb the stairs. 

“Hannibal,” I moaned, feeling another wave of nausea wash over me. It was a warning. His stride quickened. I was in the bathroom in Hannibal’s room within moments. I was gently put down next to the toilet and the lid was opened. I gagged and retched, throwing up bile and dry heaving. I was glad I hadn’t finished my omelet. I’d have more to throw up.

“I thought you said the side effects were better,” Hannibal murmured, his hand running over my hair. 

“They are,” I mumbled. “May I have a glass of water?”

“I should have thought of that,” he said as if lashing himself. I heard him stand, go into the bedroom and return. I heard the water turn on for a moment, then off. I felt a cold drop of water on my hand. “Mattea,” Hannibal said. 

I leaned back and sat on the floor, one hand going behind me to keep myself upright. I reached with the other hand and he set the wet glass into my grasp. I took a sip, swishing it around in my mouth before swallowing it. I took another drink and sighed.

“It’s time for bed, Mattea,” he said, taking the glass from me. I heard it clink when he sat it down somewhere. He reached down and helped me to stand. The room swam in the black pain that was my head. I must have gotten unsteady because his hands grasped my arms. “Careful. You’ll fall.”

He carefully picked me up. Didn’t move quickly so it didn’t trigger more nausea. He moved into the bedroom and laid me down in the bed. I felt him remove the boot, then bring the blankets up over my shoulder. He gave me a kiss on the cheek, then pulled himself up.

“I’ll be just downstairs, don’t worry, Mattea. Sleep and feel better.”

I heard him leave the room, closing the door behind him. I felt miserable. My head throbbed and my stomach rolled. I just kept thinking to myself that the Butcher knew where I was. He knew that I was with Hannibal. Hannibal was in danger and I was too sick to make sure he was ok. I tried to sit up and a wave of dizziness washed over me. I laid back down and shrugged the blanket over me. I kept my eyes closed even though the room was dark, only a sliver of light coming through the window.

I heard the door close downstairs. Crawford was gone. After a few minutes, I heard the door open and Hannibal move inside, closing it behind him. 

“Mattea?” he called gently. “Are you still awake?”

“Hannibal,” I murmured softly.

“Would you mind terribly if I turned on a light?”

“A soft one, please,” I said in a low whisper.

“Of course,” he said simply. I heard him move to the other side of the bed and a light switch click on. I couldn’t detect any light. He must have just turned on a bedside lamp. I felt the bed shift under his weight as he crawled up next to me. I felt his arm go around my waist and his body slide up behind me.

“Don’t worry, Mattea,” he whispered gently in my ear. “I’m going to stay with you. All day. Sleep now. Jack is gone and we’re alone. We’re safe.”

I nodded slowly and relaxed into the darkness and the blankets. I felt myself growing warm and sleep tugging at my consciousness. I sighed and let sleep overtake me.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Butcher makes a grand entrance.

My dreams were troubled. There was something hunting me. Something chasing me in the darkness. I felt fear, running as fast as I could. I kept bumping into things in the quiet pitch black. My breath came in ragged gasps. I felt like prey. My hunter was just behind me. I could feel him growing closer, but I couldn’t see him. It was just a sensation tickling the back of my mind.

A light touch went down my face and I screamed, sitting up in bed, my eyes looking for the danger that I felt was there. I was in Hannibal’s bedroom. I felt his weight beside me. I looked over and saw him sit up and reach out to me. I went to him, trying to climb into the warmth and safety of his arms. He pulled me back down to lay curled under his arm. 

“Hush, Mattea,” he whispered to me, smoothing his hand down my hair, fingers combing through it. “It’s alright. I’m here.” He continued to murmur soft words into my hair, feeling him breathe me in deeply. His heart was against my ear, thumping slowly, calmly. I sighed and closed my eyes, trying to match my breaths with his. After a few moments, I was tranquil. I sighed and lifted my eyes.

His eyes were up to the ceiling when I saw him. He just stared until he felt my eyes on him. Then he looked down. There was determination in his gaze. 

“You were dreaming about your Butcher, weren’t you?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. I really didn’t. “I felt like I was being hunted. I felt something in the shadow chasing me, looking for me.”

“You are beginning to succumb to the stress,” he said as he reached up with his other hand and traced the outline of my face. “I’d hoped that we would have this over and done with before you did that. Don’t worry, Mattea, I’m here and I won’t let anything happen to you. You know that, don’t you?”

I swallowed hard and nodded. I felt him taut with the promise of violence. It vibrated down him like a chord struck on his harpsichord. I wanted to quiet him so I reached up and touched his jawline. I traced the rough scratch from ear to chin and he captured my hand with his. He brought it up to kiss the inside of my wrist softly, closing his eyes as he did so. The touch was smooth and gentle against all that resonating ferocity. While I was trying to comfort him, he was trying to do the same for me.

“Hannibal,” I whispered and he opened his eyes. His gaze met mine and his hand left mine to cup my cheek. He ran his soft fingers over my skin and I closed my eyes, moving closer to his touch.

“How are you feeling, Mattea?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“I’m still very tired,” I sighed. “The nausea is better, but still lingering. I might be able to keep something down after dinner.” I looked back up to his face as he looked down into mine.

“It’s already six-thirty,” he told me and I frowned. I always did that. I slept so much on dose day. I was always relieved when I had my energy back. “Should we go and make dinner?”

“I don’t usually work on it, Hannibal,” I teased. “It’s all you dancing through your kitchen.” He smiled at me and shifted to pull his arm from around my shoulders.

“Dancing is a bit descriptive,” he said as he moved over to the edge of the bed. I noticed a blue bound book on the bed next to where he’d been laying. He’d been reading while I slept. I was amazed at his patience, laying there all day. Somehow, I knew that he’d never left my side. I smiled to myself and propped myself up on my elbow while he moved.

“I’m a writer, Hannibal,” I said. “Descriptive is what I do.”

He turned to me to give a sly smile. He winked at me and went into the bathroom, closing the door. I wondered how long he’d needed to use the bathroom.

He emerged a few minutes later, his sleeves pushed up along his forearms. He stood in the doorway and tilted his head at me. “I think I’ll make daube tonight,” he said, watching me. “Have you ever had it?”

I shook my head and frowned. “No, what’s in it?”

“Don’t worry, Mattea,” he soothed gently, coming around to my side of the bed. “It’s like a beef stew.” He patted the edge of the bed, urging me to come to him. I gladly obliged. I loved crawling to him.

I moved up the front of him while he stood there and reached for him. He bent his head and leaned down to find my mouth with his. His arms moved to hook under mine and he pulled me up lightly. His kiss was soft, sensual, but not overly so. He wasn’t expecting sex from me, he just wanted to kiss me and hold me. I was very ok with that. I wasn’t sure I could give him much more than that tonight.

“You’re going to have to come with me, I’m afraid,” he said, reaching up to pet my hair. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“I understand, Hannibal,” I told him with a soft smile. He returned it and bent for another softly searching kiss. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as his snaked around me, pulling me up flush against his body. The kiss deepened and the passion ignited like a spark on gasoline. I moaned for him and he rubbed his tongue along mine. I wrapped my legs around his waist, squeezing him between my thighs. His grip tightened around me and his mouth searched mine.

After a few moments, he pulled back, breathless with his eyes closed. “Mattea, you need your boot before we go downstairs. Stop distracting me.” It was only a slight censure. 

He set me back down on the edge of my bed and I let go of him with my legs. I leaned back against my hands as he let go of me and moved to pick up the boot. He ran his hand up my leg to the inside of my thigh and I sighed for him. He was really making this not feeling good thing difficult with touches like that. He made short work of strapping me into the boot and inflating it around my ankle. I just watched him work between my legs, knelt beside the edge of the bed.

When he was finished, he looked up at me and gave me a soft smile. He ran both hands up to my knee. “Are you ready to go downstairs?” he asked me and I nodded. He stood and gathered me into his arms. I leaned against his shoulder and sighed contentedly as he took me out into the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. He gently put me in the chair in the corner and pulled away. I looked up the line of him and met his eyes, giving a meek smile.

“Do you feel comfortable with the FBI circling your home, Hannibal?” I asked. He looked up from pulling a braising pan from beneath his island counter. He paused, a flicker of something going through his gaze. 

“To be honest, I’m not,” he said finally. “I don’t like the lack of privacy. I like to be able to come and go with no one questioning me.”

“I’m sorry, Hannibal,” I said softly.

“Why?” he asked simply, working to gather ingredients. 

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be able to do what you like without the scrutiny of the FBI,” I said softly, almost to myself. “If it weren’t for me, you’d have all the privacy you want.”

I heard him set everything down and walk to me with a brisk pace. My eyes were down in my lap and I saw his shoes, then legs over my knees. He just stood there looking down at me. I slowly looked up his body until I reached his face. It was completely placid, completely void of expression. He just watched me for a few minutes. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t even blink. His eyes were locked with mine. He just watched me, searching. It was almost eerie. 

Finally, he spoke. “Never apologize for being with me, Mattea.” He leaned down, one hand going to an arm of the chair. His face was within inches of mine, I could feel his breath on my face. I didn’t move, afraid to trigger something within him. “Never apologize for letting me find you.” He touched me then, his hand going around my throat gently. It circled the front completely so that his thumb and fingers caressed my hairline. His eyes went to where his hand was touching. He watched his hand run up, I swallowed under his touch. His tongue licked his lips lightly when he felt that movement. His hand grazed over my skin up to my jawline. His thumb went to my lower lip, gently sweeping and he tipped my head back slightly. He leaned over me, making me lean back into the chair and look up at him. He was all aggression, a gentle invasion of my space.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Mattea,” he whispered down to me. My throat was dry and I licked my lips. His eyes widened slightly, watching the movement. He very slowly descended, stalking my mouth, but I never moved. I just waited for him.

After slow, agonizing moments, his lips touched mine. I barely moved, just opened my mouth slightly. His lips just grazed and his eyes moved up to my eyes, wild and fierce. I gasped slightly, seeing such brutality in them. He then deepened the kiss, pressing his mouth against mine and closing his eyes so I did the same. He demanded my mouth, claimed me with his lips and soft sweep of his tongue. I was his and he was making sure I knew it.

After he kissed me breathless, he pulled back. I could feel his eyes on my face while he traced his thumb over my chin. My eyes were closed, afraid to see that savage look in his eyes. He stayed bent over me, his heat spilling over my body. My breath came in shudders and my hands clenched the arms of the chair. Even his touch was demanding, staking his claim.

“Open your eyes, Mattea,” he said softly, his accent curling over his tongue. I slowly followed his order, my gaze meeting his. His passion wasn’t as intense, his gaze less severe. They still swam with promise. Heat still licked those golden depths. I sighed as his hand left my face and he slowly stood.

He went back to his place behind the island counter and he took what looked like beef and started cutting it into thin strips. I just watched him, almost afraid to move or speak. His violence was back, channeled into sexual dominance. He had still been so gentle with me even though there was such savage energy in him.

He looked up at me as he sliced. “Oh, no,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “I’ve broken you, haven’t I?” He smiled and winked at me and I finally smiled back, relaxing in the chair.

“I’m fine, Hannibal,” I said, taking a deep, cleansing breath. My hands hurt from how hard I’d clenched the chair and I folded them into my lap. I cleared my throat and shook my head lightly. I’d actually feared him for a moment. My heart still thumped hard in my chest.

“I rather hope not,” he said teasingly. He’d gone back to cooking, but there was a little smile on his lips and some pep in his step while he moved.

Suddenly, there was an explosion of glass from the back-door in. I gasped and covered my face with my hands even though the door was so far away. I saw Hannibal move out of the way just in time. I saw him scoop up one of his carving knives and tuck it behind his wrist as he turned to face the door. A man stepped through the frame, dressed all in black. He stood just a few inches shorter than Hannibal, his dark hair cut close to his scalp. He was dressed in all black from neck to toe in what looked like military gear. His boots crunched over the broken glass on the floor. It was the Baltimore Butcher. I recognized him instantly from when he shoved me backwards down my stairs. My blood went cold in my veins.

“Hannibal!” I cried. He’d come for me. Hannibal didn’t look at me, kept his eyes locked on the figure invading his kitchen. He crouched slightly.

“My love,” came a hoarse whisper from the man. My gaze locked on him and his eyes moved over me. He took me in like his eyes were starved for me. He had a black gaze, a high forehead under that shaved hair, almost like he was balding. His jaw was square, his nose a bit large for his face, and his cheeks were hollow. He held a gun in a gloved hand. A gun against a knife? I was going to lose Hannibal.

Just then, he seemed to notice Hannibal standing just feet away from him. His face turned into a snarl. He was all rage while Hannibal was all calmness and assertiveness. He had no doubt in his posture as the gunman turned to face him.

“You took her from me,” the gunman said, his face still screwed up into something ferocious. “She’s mine and you took her from me!” He pointed the gun and shot and my heart skipped a beat.

But Hannibal had dodged out of the way sinking down behind the island counter. I heard china break as the bullet went into the cabinet behind where Hannibal had once stood. I watched him move along the island, crouching and moving silently. 

“She was never yours,” Hannibal said from behind the counter. “She was always mine. She will never be with you.”

“Hannibal, don’t!” I cried as another shot rang out. There was a dent where the bullet ricochet. 

Suddenly, Hannibal stood, his posture perfectly straight as his hand went over his shoulder with the carving knife in his fingers. He flung the knife and it spun quickly, meeting the flesh of the gunman’s shoulder with a solid thud. The gunman cried out and the gun clattered to the broken glass at his feet. He gave Hannibal an evil glare, reaching up to jerk the blade out. Hannibal grabbed another knife out of the block and moved to the center of the island, keeping it between him and the stalker. He tucked the blade against his hand, running the dull edge along the underside of his arm as he moved. The man in black moved around the island, trying to get to Hannibal.

“I’m going to kill you and I’m going to like it,” the stalker snarled while looking at him over the counter. He slashed through the air, the knife barely missing Hannibal as he dodged away. I screamed. I heard a howl as the stalker jumped over the top of the island, kicking Hannibal in the chest. Hannibal fell backwards, the wind knocked out of him. He gasped for air and his eyes locked with mine.

“Stop!” I screamed, but no one was listening. Hannibal struggled to stand as the Butcher moved further up next to him. Hannibal’s hand that held the knife was closest to me. I stood and ignored the pain searing me in my left foot. I ran over to Hannibal and I grabbed the knife. The Butcher saw me and tried to grab me. I dodged his grasp and used the knife to slice down his hand.

The Butcher reeled away from me, like the cut on his hand was worse than the stab wound in his shoulder. He stepped back, his dark eyes wide and wild. He looked betrayed, as if somehow, I’d hurt him deeper than the slash in his hand. He dropped the knife and grabbed his hand. He looked from it to me, over and over, his mouth gaping open. 

“No,” he shuddered. “You’re supposed to love me. You’re supposed to come for me. You didn’t say no!”

Hannibal used the distraction to stand and come up behind me. He grabbed my shoulders and spun me around behind him. His frame blocked sight of the Butcher, but I could still hear him.

“She doesn’t love you,” Hannibal said quietly. “She’s mine, not yours.”

“No, she’s mine!” the stalker screamed. He seemed farther away. I couldn’t see so I moved around Hannibal’s tall body. I saw him backing away to the doorway. “She’s mine and I’ll have her. You won’t be able to stop me.” Then he disappeared into the night.

We stood there in stunned silence for a moment. I heard Hannibal’s heavy breathing over the pounding of my heart. He reached back for me and I grabbed his hand, still clutching the knife in my other. My adrenaline was pounding so hard that I could barely feel the pain in my leg. I stood there and shook. I trembled and stared at the darkness as if he’d crawl back through and come after me again.

“Mattea?” Hannibal asked. I hadn’t realized that he’d turned around until his hands were on either side of my face. I jumped and cried out, stepping away onto my left foot, then gasping in pain and falling to my knees. Hannibal was there, kneeling beside me. His hand went to the one clasping the knife and pried it gently out of my grasp, letting it fall to the floor. My heart thundered in my ears. My breathing was harsh, ragged gasps. I couldn’t see anything but the Butcher reaching to slice Hannibal’s front open. 

“Mattea, look at me!” came Hannibal’s harsh demand. I felt his hands holding my face. His grasp was tight and hard, his voice loud and urgent. “Come back to me, Mattea.” He watched me focus on his face and he gave the barest of smiles. “That’s it, come back. We’re both here, we’re safe. He’s gone. We’re alone.”

“He almost killed you,” I whispered. “He could have killed you, Hannibal.” My hands reached up to his shoulders and I clung to him. “I almost lost you, Hannibal. I can’t lose you.”

“Hush, Mattea,” he said soothingly. He gathered me into his arms, holding me close. He cradled me against his chest and let me process. I shook and shuddered. I let the terror slice through me and I shivered uncontrollably. I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist, felt him breathe heavily against me. One arm went around my shoulders, the other reached up and his hand started petting my hair. He gently started rocking me. He hushed me and murmured soft nothings to me while I shook.

After a few minutes, he pulled back. He used one hand to tip my face up to his, then both to frame my face while his thumbs gently caress my cheeks. His eyes locked with mine and all I saw in those golden depths was concern. He didn’t even register that someone had literally just tried to kill him.

“It’s alright, Mattea,” he said gently. “You scared him away. You did very well. He’s gone.”

I nodded, still shivering. The autumn air blew into the room, swirling around me and adding to the stab of ice in my soul. I shook in his grasp. My eyes were wide and there was terror there, I knew it.

“Mattea,” he said softly, pulling me in to kiss my forehead. He mumbled, his lips never leaving my skin. “I have to call Jack, Mattea,” he said. “I have to let him know that he was here.” I nodded slowly against his touch and he left me, going to the phone in the cubby. I heard him sweeping shards of glass away with his feet. I heard him dial.

“Jack,” he said suddenly. “He was here. No, we’re alright. He’s wounded. You might want to call the hospitals and put a watch out.” Hannibal turned to look at me. My eyes were still wide, still wild. I shook, I quaked on my knees. My hands hung limply at my side and I just sat there, the aching throb going from my ankle to my brain, then back again over and over. “She did very well. We’ll wait for you.” Then he hung up the phone. 

He continued to look at me and I continued to look at him. My teeth started chattering together loudly in my head. Suddenly, black started swirling in my vision and I swayed. I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head and I started to fall. The floor rushed up to slam against the side of my head and my world rang like a bell had been struck. It echoed as darkness took me.

I felt is arms go around me, hold me tightly. I felt my body lay on the hard surface of the floor, the cold air and the cold floor adding to the ice in my chest. My body was boneless in his grasp and my head lolled to the side. I felt him lay me down and his hands go to my throat, checking my pulse. In the darkness I could hear his voice calling me back. His hands framed my face again. His touch was warm, heated. I wanted more of that heat and I mentally tried to climb closer to it, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. I was limp, my vision black. I wasn’t shuddering anymore. I just lay there.

“Mattea, mano meile,” he kept whispering. “Come back to me. Come back to me. We’re safe and he’s gone. Come back, mano meile, come back.”

“Hannibal,” I whispered into the darkness. I felt him scoop me up and cradle me to his chest, enveloping me in his heat. His arms were strong and tight around me. My head lolled to the side listlessly. I felt him trying to turn me so I would look up at him. There was no bone in my body, just limp meat. 

“That’s it, Mattea,” he said encouragingly. “Come back. You’re safe. I’m here and nothing will happen to you. Jack will be here soon.”

Distantly, I heard the front door swing open. I heard voices shouting and coming closer. I heard Hannibal call to them and he scooped me up into his arms. I felt him moving quickly and the chill of the air recede. He was taking me deeper into the house.

“She’s fainted and hit her head,” I heard him say. “She needs an ambulance.”

“Hannibal,” I whispered again. My eyes were slowly focusing. My head was back, my throat exposed. I heard an agent offer to take me and he spun me in the opposite direction.  
“She stays with me,” he said stiffly. It was a command, an order. He wasn’t letting me go. He wasn’t letting anyone else take me.

I was vaguely aware of being laid out on the sofa in the living room. I could see yellow hues and green chairs. My ears rang and my head throbbed. I felt Hannibal’s hands come back to my face. He pulled me to face him and I saw him distantly, as if down a long tunnel, a swirl of colors. His hair fell over his creased brow, his golden gaze searching mine. I felt his thumbs feather over my cheekbones.

“Mattea, feel me, feel my hands,” he commanded. “Hear my voice. Come back to me. I’m here and I need you to come back.”

“Hannibal,” I sighed. I closed my eyes until he shook me slightly. I opened them and locked my gaze on his. “Hannibal, are you alright?”

He closed his eyes, sighed, and gathered me into his arms. I went to him more than willingly, loosely putting my hand on his arm. I touched him and he hugged me to him. My head split and I could feel a large bump growing under my scalp.

“Aš niekada tavęs nepaleisiu,“ he whispered above my head. "Never, I promise you.“ He clutched me. He held me so close, his muscles ticking below my hand. I distantly heard officers checking the house, yelling to each other.

"Dr. Lecter!“ I heard Crawford bellow from the front door.

Hannibal pulled himself up and slightly away, still holding me in his arms. "Here, Jack,“ he called. My eyes were still locked on his face and slightly wild hair. I wanted to smooth it, but still felt too boneless to move. “In here, Jack,” he called. “She’s hurt. I think she’s going into shock. I need to get her to a hospital. Between her dehydration from treatment and the trauma of being attacked, she was already vulnerable. She fainted and hit her head on the floor.”

I heard Crawford asking questions distantly, like he was in another room. I looked up at Hannibal’s face and saw that he was looking at something close. Crawford had to be in the room. Why was my hearing so weird? I reached over and brushed my hand along Hannibal’s arm and he looked down at me.

“Mattea?” he asked. He cupped my face again. “What are you feeling? What’s happening?” It was like he was at the bottom of a pool yelling up at me. I frowned and shook my head. I heard him call my name again.

“I can’t hear, Hannibal,” I sighed. “I can’t see very well. My head hurts and I’m dizzy. What’s wrong, Hannibal?”

“She’s got a concussion,” he said to Crawford, looking from me to him. “We need to take her in for images. She could have a brain bleed.”

“I’ve called for an ambulance,” Crawford reassured him. “Have you been hurt, Doctor?”

“I got the wind knocked out of me,” Hannibal responded. “Mattea stopped him before he had the chance to really hurt me. She saved the day.”

“Miss Smith?” Crawford called. I just lay there, eyes up to Hannibal, blinking slowly. I heard him and I knew the polite thing to do was to look at him, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t move my head to take him in. I just stared up at Hannibal.

“She’s confused, Jack,” Hannibal responded for me. “She’s having a hard time processing what’s happening around her. I need that ambulance, Jack, and I need it now.” His hand went to my throat and pressed along my pulse point. He didn’t like what he felt and he cast that worried look into my eyes. “Mattea, listen to me. Are you listening?” I nodded lightly. “I need you to listen to my voice. Open your eyes and see me. I need you to ignore that feeling that makes you want to sleep. You need to stay awake. Talk to me, Mattea. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“I’m floaty,” I sighed. “It’s like I’m under water and I’m trying to swim up.” I swept a hand over my face and Hannibal took it into his grasp. “I can feel you, but seeing and hearing you is hard.”

“Definitely a concussion,” Hannibal said. “Jack, I need that ambulance.”

“I’m calling,” Crawford said and he left the room. Hannibal focused on me again. He held my cheek in one hand, my hand in the other. His thumb swept across my cheekbones. He would run his fingers down to my throat to press against my pulse points. He sighed every time, like he was angry or irritated at it. His hand went to my hair to brush it away from my face. He was talking to me but it was hard for me to center my attention to anything in particular. 

A mouth covered mine, hard and desperate. His lips were pressed to mine and I felt that flicker of something. I opened my mouth to his. Suddenly, I was all sensation, someone demanding that I pay attention. It did the trick, I was very focused. That searching mouth receded from mine and I was bereft. My eyes opened and I saw him, still fuzzy but definitely there. He was just watching me, his eyes searching my face. When he saw me concentrate on him, he smiled.

“There, that’s better,” he said almost proudly. Knock ‘em dead, Hannibal. I laughed lightly and sighed, settling back against the back of the couch. “Is your vision still fuzzy?” I nodded a little and his jaw tightened. “Can you hear me better?”

“Yes, Hannibal,” I sighed, my eyes fluttering closed a bit. I felt Hannibal clench my hand and I opened them back up again. “What happened?”

“You fainted and hit your head,” Hannibal explained. “I’m sure you have a very large knot. Let me feel.” His hands reached up around the side of my head. I knew when he’d found it. It hurt like hell! I winced and pulled away so fast that he’d managed to pull some hair out into his fingers. He frowned at his hand, then looking up to me. “Tender?”

“Yes, it stings a little,” I said with a frown. I shook my head again as my vision went funny again. “I’m sorry, Hannibal, I just can’t seem to keep focus.”

“Just keep trying,” he said in a hushed tone. “Can you sit up?” I nodded and I felt him clasp my hands and stand. He gently pulled me up. I swung the boot down, distantly thinking I probably shouldn’t and immediately realizing why. As soon as it plopped on the carpet, I hissed and raised it. My ankle was in so much pain. Blinding pain. Shooting pain. Just pain! I hunched forward and Hannibal sat next to me. I felt his hand go to my back.

“I’m sorry, Mattea,” he said to my side. His hands ran over my long, thick braid and pulled it over close to him. He almost pet me for a few minutes until I sat up.

“Hannibal, I think I’ve done something to it,” I spoke in a harsh whisper. “It hurts so badly. I think I’ve messed it up.”

“You did almost run to get that knife. Then there was me swinging you around. You could have further injured it,” he replied. He pulled my shoulders up and turned me to look at him. “How is your head feeling? Are you still floaty?”

“A bit,” I said. “But you chased away most of it.”

I saw him grin. “I did my best.”

People spilled into the room. They circled me and started asking too many questions for me to follow. They instructed Hannibal to move and he just looked at them, dared them to make him. They had a long plastic board with them and they kept trying to get me to lay on it.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Hannibal said, putting a hand on my arm and keeping me where I was next to him. “She needs imaging on her head and ankle. She’s conscious and responding, but I’m worried about the extend of the head injury.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but we need you to move so we can assess her,” one tech, a female, said. He gave her a look of pure irritation. I’d never seen him give such a dirty look. The woman actually took a step back.

In the next moment, he’d composed himself. “I’m a doctor,” he told her. “I’ve been assessing her since the injury. She did lose consciousness, but I was able to pull her out of it. She’s still hazy, but she’s much better than before. She needs images and fluids. If you’ll give me an IV bag, I’ll put it in her myself.”

That caused the techs to take a few steps back. They still hovered over me like bees waiting to pollinate a freshly bloomed flower. One took out a clear bag filled with saline. He handed the end of it to Hannibal, who took my hands into his. He chose my left hand since the veins were more pronounced. A tech handed him an alcohol swab and he swept it against my skin. It was cold and scratchy. I shivered as he brought the needle to my skin. I looked away for some reason, not wanting to see it pierce my skin. I closed my eyes tightly when I felt the sting of him pushing the needle into my vein. A moment later, I felt something sticky move over the needle in my hand. I looked over and saw a large plastic bandage looking thing over my hand, holding the IV needle in place.

“You’ll feel better,” Hannibal said next to me. He turned to the techs and asked if we could move this along. One of them insisted that I use the backboard but Hannibal just suggested he take me to the ambulance. He was guarding me like I was something precious, something he did not want taken away from him. After a few minutes of back and forth, the techs relented and Hannibal stood next to me. He bent down and pulled my right arm over his shoulders and I looked up at him. He gave me a slight smile as he wrapped his arm around my back and scooped my legs up. He stood like I weighed nothing. He was all elegance. He didn’t strain a bit as he moved out of the living room and out to the front door.

The air was so cold outside. I clung closer to Hannibal’s warmth and shivered against him. His arms tightened around me and I closed my eyes as I put my face in his warm neck. I heard people instructing him to put me on a stretcher and I felt a cushion come up against me. I felt Hannibal’s arms relax around me and I gasped. I clung to him as if I feared him abandoning me. I felt his warm hand on my left, just over the IV needle.

“I’m here, Mattea,” he soothed as I was raised and pushed into the back of a brightly lit ambulance. I hissed against the lights as they stabbed into my eyes and made my head ache. I felt his thumb move over my wrist. “It’s alright, Mattea. You’re in an ambulance. We’re taking you to the hospital. Everyone is safe. I know you’re very uncomfortable right now, but that will pass.”

“Hannibal, the light,” I gritted out, clenching my eyes tight. I rolled to face him, pulling away from the hands that were trying to put something on my chest. I felt them go to my arm and try to pull me back. I jerked myself out of their grasp. Then Hannibal’s gentle hand went to my elbow and he smoothed it up and down my arm.

“They need to monitor your heart rate, Mattea,” Hannibal reasoned with me. “We need to put some sensors on. Just lay back. It’s alright.”

Reluctantly, I laid back. I didn’t open my eyes, keeping them shut tight against the light. My head throbbed and I felt dizzy and nauseous. I felt hands go to reach down the neckline of my shirt, then pull the waistline up to attach more. They were cold and sticky, uncomfortable against my skin. I heard a rapid rhythm of beeping. What was that? I heard Hannibal say something distantly. He was diagnosing things. He was instructing the tech that was there with us on how to treat me. Meanwhile, his hand never left mine. He would sweep his thumb along my skin to reassure me that he was there.

The ambulance must have been on full speed. We reached the hospital quickly and I was unloaded, jostling my leg and making me wince. Hannibal’s grip tightened and I felt myself get rushed along. The cold was jarring and I was happy when I was out of it. I could hear the techs barking at the ER nurses and doctors that swarmed me. I opened my eyes slightly, seeing myself completely surrounded by people. I looked to the side and saw Hannibal right next to me. I could see him filling the staff in on how I received the injury.

The hospital visit was long and tedious. They had me wait in a private room with Hannibal always by my side. The light was so bright still and I kept my eyes closed. He ran his hand over my hair as I curled onto my side to face him. The beeping was still there, but less rapid and quieter. He would ask me questions every so often to make sure I was still awake. I would mumble my answers, but I did answer him. He seemed content with that. 

They came and took me for a full body MRI, looking at both my head and my ankle. It was loud and uncomfortable. I had to lay completely straight and not move or they said they’d have to start all over again. They gave me earplugs but they didn’t block out all the noise. I clenched my jaw and did my best not to move. After the test, they took me back to my room where Hannibal waited.

“How long for the results?” he asked the nurse.

“Our radiologist is backed up so it may take some time,” she said.

“I’m a doctor,” he returned. “I can look at them and make a diagnosis. Please just show them to me.” She put up a fight, but Hannibal was so stubborn that she eventually relented, pulling the images up on the computer screen to my side. I opened my eyes and watched him walk closer and study all of the images. He’d ask for a few to be enlarged and he’d comb over them carefully.

“No brain bleed or damage to the tissues,” he sighed, almost in relief. He frowned at the next image. “You’ve completely torn two of your ligaments. I guess I didn’t put your boot on securely enough. I’m sorry, Mattea.”

“It’s not your fault, Hannibal,” I said as he sat on the bed next to me. He took my hands back into his and he brought one up to brush his lips across my knuckles. “I couldn’t let him get to you. He was so close.” 

I felt the panic start to rise as I pictured the Butcher slowly walking over him. The beeping came faster and his hands clenched on mine, but not roughly. My breath started coming in short gasps and my neck burned. I was out of his home, I was out of mine. Someone had invaded his home just as I’d gotten comfortable there. Someone had threatened us there. Where was safe anymore.

“No, Mattea,” Hannibal said tightly. “Don’t panic, it’s alright. I’m here and you’re here. You’re safe with me. Feel my hands. Ground yourself. Hear my voice. There is nothing to be afraid of. Everything is alright.”

“He could have killed you tonight, Hannibal,” I said as I tried to regulate my breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It was a mantra as images flashed behind my eyes. “He could have killed you and you would be gone.”

Lips moved over mine, quieting my fears. He kissed me as if he’d break me. His tongue swept my lower lip and I opened my mouth for him. My hands came up to his face and held him close to me. I felt one of his hands go beside my head, holding him over me. His other hand spanning the top of my waist. It was just a gentle reassurance that he was there and not going anywhere.

There was a knock at the door and he pulled away quickly, taking my hands into his over his lap. It was Agents Crawford and Graham. I could hear them greet Hannibal and his calm response, as if he hadn’t just been kissing me.

“We need a statement, Doctor,” Crawford said somewhere in the room.

“Yes, she’ll be alright, Jack, thank you for asking,” Hannibal said, his voice a little annoyed.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Crawford stumbled over himself. “What have the scans shown? Does she have a brain bleed?”

“No, she just has a very big lump on her head and a bad concussion,” Hannibal said. “However, she’s completely torn two of her ligaments in her ankle. She’ll need surgery to repair them.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Smith,” Graham said as he stood against the wall across from the bed. His hands were in his coat pockets and he was frowning, as per usual. “If you could just explain what happened, we’ll leave you to rest.”

Hannibal went first. He explained that we were making a meal when the door broke open. He described the brief fight scene and told them that he’d been knocked down. He said that I’d gotten a knife from him and sliced the Butcher’s hand open while he was reaching for me. I noticed that he’d kept most of the commentary out of his description. 

“Miss Smith,” Crawford said, bringing my painful eyes back to him. He was in a brown coat this time. “Do you have anything to add?”

“He looked so betrayed when I cut him,” I said slowly. “He said that I didn’t say no before. He said that I was supposed to love him.”

“Cutting him was a great way of telling him you weren’t complicit with his desire for you,” Graham said. “You showed him in one movement that you weren’t interested in him. It did make him feel betrayed by you. He’ll be desperate now. He’ll want to show you that you’re supposed to be this bride of his.”

“Desperate how?” Crawford asked.

“He’s lost his claim on her,” Hannibal answered. “She’s rebuked him. She’s turned him down in a violent way. Now he’ll want to reestablish his claim. He’ll try to take her by force now, Jack.”

“He already tried to take her by force tonight,” Crawford reminded him.

“No, not like this,” Graham said. “He’ll come with the full weight of his rage. His brides are important to him, a part of him. They become his at their deaths and he’s able to keep them forever. Others have fought back, but she was special in the way that she didn’t put up any fight the first time he contacted her. Now that she has, he’s going to be angry. He’s going to be full of rage. He won’t just try to take you, he’s going to try to kill you.”

Hannibal’s hands tightened a bit on mine. He held me in his grasp and his touch was all possession. He’d said I was his. He’d always kissed me and touched me as if I was his. Now there was a definite threat to my life.

“Right,” Crawford said decisively. “You two need to come into police protection. We can set you up in a safe house and keep watch over you.”

The beeping that had been steady and regular became faster, harder. Hannibal squeezed my hands, anchoring me. He looked from me to Crawford and shook his head.

“She’s already uncomfortable being away from the house,” he said. “I won’t put her through the stress of being pulled away from where she’d finally become comfortable. We’re going back to my home. We’re staying there.”

“Doctor, we’ve patched up the window on your door, but you’re far from secure in there,” Crawford said, trying to sound reasonable. “You need to move location. He’s going to come back again. Will you be any better prepared?”

“No, but you will be,” Hannibal returned. “You can post more men around the house. We’ll agree to armed escort when we leave the house, which won’t be often. How did he get past your guards to begin with?”

“He shot them in the head,” Graham answered. “He must have used a silencer. No one reported hearing anything until he was already in your house. He wanted to come up behind you and take you by surprise, but then make sure you knew that he was there once inside.”

“He did make a grand entrance,” Hannibal said lightly. “It doesn’t change anything, Jack. I’m not taking her out of an environment where she’s finally comfortable. Her anxiety disorder will cause her to be in its grips if we do that. She’ll fall apart, and she’s already succumbing to the stress. I’m not going to push her further. She’s hurt, she’s frightened, and I’m not allowing anything else to happen to her.”

“Don’t you see how dangerous this is for her?” Crawford asked almost breathlessly. “For both of you? You’ve put a target on your back by protecting her and taking her in. He’s not going to stop, Doctor. He’s going to keep coming.”

“I’m aware of that, Jack,” Hannibal said calmly. “I’d do more than that to protect her. I’m not letting her go anywhere without me, and I’m not going to push her delicate psyche any further than it already has been. The amount of stress from the attack itself brought her quite literally to her knees. She was nearly lost by her concussion, which she received after the attack, not during. She needs stability. I’m taking her home.”

“She’s an adult, Doctor,” Crawford said sternly, trying to take the decision out of Hannibal’s hands. “She can make her own choices.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Agent Crawford,” I sighed, closing my eyes tightly for a moment. My vision was still fuzzy around the edges and my head still hurt. “I’m staying with Hannibal. He’s right. I felt safe in his home with him. I’m not leaving that.”

“You ‘felt’ safe,” Graham pointed out. “You don’t anymore.”

“I’m not there right now, am I, Agent Graham?” I asked him, rolling my shoulder back. My hands were still in Hannibal’s lap, in his grasp. I felt him give me a light squeeze. “I don’t feel safe here. I want to go home. I want to go back to Hannibal’s home. I want to go back to bed.” I sighed and drew one hand away to rub my temple lightly, closing my eyes again. “What are we waiting for, Hannibal? Why can’t we just go home?”

“I’m sure the resident that’s taking care of you wants to come in and go over your MRI results,” he answered patiently.

“But you’ve already done that. Why wait?”

“Just let them do their procedure. We’ll go home soon.”

“I can’t let you do that, Doctor,” Crawford said.

“Are you detaining us, Jack?” Hannibal asked, slowly turning to him. There was a clear challenge in his voice, though his face was completely calm.

“No,” Crawford started.

“Then we can go wherever we wish,” Hannibal cut him off. “We’re going back to my home. You can increase the security. The Butcher is injured. He won’t be in any condition to come back anytime soon. Have you called the hospitals and let them know what to look for?”

“Not yet,” Crawford grumbled.

“You may catch him tonight while he seeks treatment,” Hannibal reasoned. “We’re going back to my house. That’s what is going to happen. You can’t stop us, Jack.”

I heard Crawford make a noise not unlike a growl. He’d lost and he knew it. I saw him turn and leave the room with Graham on his heels. They shut the door firmly behind them.

“Hannibal,” I said, bringing his attention back to me. He gave me a slight smile when his eyes met mine. “He will come. I don’t know when, but he will.”

“And I’ll be ready for him,” he answered. “I won’t let him get that close again. He almost touched you and that can’t be allowed. I’ll be ready and I will end the threat.”

I frowned at him. I could hear what he was saying and I knew his words had a dark meaning to them. How far would he go for my safety?

“Hannibal, are you going to kill him?” I asked quietly. His went cold and he leaned in.

“If Jack doesn’t catch him and he comes back for you, I will do everything in my power to stop him. If that means killing him, I’ll do it. He won’t get to you again, Mattea. That’s a promise.”

I watched him for a few moments, my brow drawn down. He was serious. He was almost flippantly talking about killing a man to protect me. He said he would kill him. It was like he was talking about something like dinner. Just a casual conversation about ending someone’s life. Did that bother me? I looked away and thought on that for a few moments. Did his ease at taking someone’s life make me uncomfortable? Would it upset me if he did it? 

“Mattea, does that trouble you?” he asked me.

I brought my eyes back to his and tilted my head a bit. “No, Hannibal, I don’t think it does. I know technically it’s wrong, but I don’t really care. He’s violated not just me, but you by breaking into your house. He’s been terribly rude about it. I don’t think I would mind too much if he just wasn’t anymore.”

His smile broadly and he leaned down to brush his lips against mine, then reached up with one hand and brushed my somewhat frazzled hair away from my face. It was horribly frizzed. I knew it would be a trick to get all the knots out of it. He looked down at me and studied my face, looking for any hint of doubt. There was nothing there and his eyes glittered at that fact.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal's caretaker urges are stronger than his primal ones. He looks after a somewhat broken Mattea and tries to help her recover from the stress of the Baltimore Butcher.

The hospital took forever to discharge me. When they finally did, two agents came in and introduced themselves as our armed guard for the night. One was a tall black man a few shades darker than Crawford. His face was smooth with no stubble on his chin. He stood an inch or two taller than Hannibal. He was lean muscle under his FBI jacket. I could see the butt of his gun poking out of the side.

The other was a pale but immensely muscled female. She had curly hair that was tighter than mine, but she’d pulled it back severely against her scalp so it was straight with her curls bouncing out of the elastic at the back of her head. Her hair was a dirty blond and she wore no make-up. She was the most masculine female I’d ever met. She stood stiffly, her body ridged, as if expecting to leap to attention at any moment.

The two agents pulled a large, dark SUV to the ER entrance. Hannibal pushed me in a wheel chair to the back driver’s side of the vehicle. He surprised everyone, including me, when he just bent in and picked me up to gently place into the back of the car. He helped me settle my aching foot against the floor and smiled up at me before closing the door. Within moments, he’d hopped into the other side. He buckled himself in and reached over to grab my right hand.

We rode silently until we reached Hannibal’s house. He quickly undid his belt buckle and jumped out of the SUV once it pulled to a stop. I watched him go up and unlock the door and flick on a light while I unbuckled myself and reached to open the door. By the time I’d pushed it open, Hannibal was there in the cold night air. He reached for my hand and pulled it up to his shoulders. I felt his strong arms pull me close against the warmth of his body, as if he was trying to warm me by touch alone. He moved me quickly into the house and settled me in the living room, the only light spilling in from the foyer. The agents came in shortly after. Hannibal thanked them for their time and showed them right back out of the door, which he closed firmly behind them. 

I sat in the dimness of the living room and thought about everything that had happened. So much in just a few hours. The doctors had confirmed Hannibal’s diagnosis of concussion without brain damage and torn ligaments. He just sat there and listened to them repeat his words, his hands never leaving mine. They told me that they’d have the ortho surgeon call me in the morning to set up surgery. 

Surgery. Great. Hannibal would no doubt keep me in bed for weeks convalescing. I doubt I’d see much else than the fireplace and the slanted ceilings for a very long while. I sighed deeply and sat back against the couch’s back.

“Are you alright, Mattea?” Hannibal asked as he came into the room and settled into one of the green chairs across from me. He leaned against his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands between them. He tilted his head and brought my eyes to look at him.

“Yes, Hannibal, I’m fine,” I sighed. “I’m just a little tired.”

“I’m afraid our meal was spoiled by the glass,” he said and settled his back against the back of the chair. “I’ll have to think of something else to feed you tonight.”

“Oh, Hannibal, don’t put yourself out. It’s late and we’ve both been through so much.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “You haven’t eaten today and you’ve had a trying day between the attack and your treatment. You need to have something in your stomach before I tuck you securely into my bed.”

The last he said with a curl of lips. I remembered him telling the Butcher that I was his. I didn’t understand what that meant. I frowned and dropped my eyes, mulling over the information, trying to make sense of it. My brain still wasn’t back on line, still fuzzy, and still aching. I shook it with my eyes closed and took a deep breath.

“What’s wrong, Mattea?” I opened my eyes and saw him frowning at me, one elbow on the arm of the chair with his hands folded in his lap. He was completely relaxed, but there was concern in his expression.

“I’m just tired, Hannibal,” I sighed. “I really just want to go to bed. Can’t we just have a big breakfast?”

“You’ve had a very trying day,” he said, still frowning. “I’d like to get something in you before we go to bed. I have some chicken breasts from another meal that I can quickly cook up into a Tuscan chicken soup. It would only take me an hour. Is that too long for you?”

“I don’t think I can go back into the kitchen tonight, Hannibal,” I responded, letting myself frown. The idea of being there in such a short time from when the Butcher had invaded was a little daunting. I didn’t want to remember again.

“You won’t have to,” Hannibal soothed, leaning forward to put his arms back on his knees. “I can leave you here or I can take you to bed to rest while I cook. Jack said they covered the door with some ply wood. I’ll have to call and have the glass replaced tomorrow.”

“Didn’t Agent Crawford also ask you to cancel all your patients tomorrow?” I asked. My memory of the hospital was still hazy and I couldn’t recall all the details.

Hannibal nodded slowly, licking his lips. His eyes went a bit distant for a moment, seeing a problem that wasn’t physically there. “I don’t have an appointment until ten tomorrow morning, so if we get up early, I can call and reschedule them all. I would need to do that for at least a few so we can see your surgeon tomorrow. You need to have those ligaments repaired quickly.”

“Can’t we just wait a few days?” I said, taking a deep breath. I didn’t want to leave the house again so soon. I wanted to stay here with Hannibal and be calm, comforted. I didn’t want to deal with the rest of the world. I wanted to reassure myself that he was still here, still safe. That the Butcher hadn’t gotten him. I shivered at the thought.

“We need to get it taken care of as soon as possible,” he answered with a sigh of his own. “I know you’re very stressed and I know that the idea of leaving the house again so soon is unnerving. Especially since we were just attacked a few hours ago.” 

He paused. The air was tense for a few minutes while he watched me. I looked up into those searching eyes, his brow down in a frown. I could see his jaw working. Something was bothering him.

“What is it, Hannibal?” I asked.

“Do you still feel comfortable here? With me?”

I let a little smile cross my face and I nodded. “I’d feel safe anywhere as long as it was with you.”

He moved quickly, standing and sliding his body in next to mine. His arm went behind me and tucked me up close to his body while his hand cupped my cheek and brought my mouth to his. It was a gentle kiss, something soothing after all the trauma. His tongue swept through my mouth as if he was showing me that he was still there, still with me. I felt his hand line my jaw and reach down to tuck against the back of my neck, holding me to him. He wanted me right where I was and he wasn’t going to let me pull away. He slowly, almost sluggish explored my mouth. His teeth tugged at my lower lip and then his tongue smoothed over it. I sighed against him and wrapped my arm around his shoulders and leaning against the arm of the couch, pulling him across me. He followed me readily, never leaving my mouth. His body leaned over mine and I felt his hand slide up my back to the base of my hairline. He carefully ran over the large bump, not hurting it, almost testing the size of it.

After long moments of our mouths just moving against each other, he pulled back to look into my eyes. His gaze was soft, serene, like he didn’t have a care in the world. He was ever present in that moment with me while one hand rested behind my head and the other ran over my cheek. His weight was on me, but not heavily. He just sat like that and didn’t move, didn’t speak. He drank me in with his eyes, every give and recede of my face, every curve, every plane. He just looked at me like he wanted to memorize me.

I tilted my head and ran a finger from his temple to his scratchy cheek and jawline. There was a light stubble on his face, barely there. I cupped his jaw and rubbed my thumb over that light stubble, feeling the sensations over the sensitive skin.

We sat there for a while, just looking at each other. He didn’t move off me until he sighed and dropped his gaze. He pulled up and his hands slipped from me. I sat up slowly and gave a sigh of my own, as if I’d been holding my breath for a while.

“Where would you like to wait for me?” he asked after a few heartbeats. His eyes were on the floor in front of us and his hands clasped between his knees.

“I can wait here, Hannibal,” I said. “I could use a little time to process. Will you miss me in the kitchen?”

He turned and smiled at me. It crawled up and warmed his eyes. “Of course, I will,” he said. “Whenever possible, it’s always best to have beautiful company when cooking. It inspires the food.” He winked at me and stood, turning to bend and kiss the top of my head. He lingered and smelled me in. I think he was still trying to reassure himself that I was still there, that I hadn’t gone. Then he stood, turned, and walked out of the room. I heard his shoes click on the surface of the foyer and disappear deeper into the house. 

While he was gone, I settled back against the couch. Honestly, it was more for decoration than comfort. Sure, it was padded and everything, but the straight back and high arms made it difficult to lay down in any way. I propped my ankle along the line of the couch, folded my right arm over the arm of the couch, and rested my head on it. It still hurt a bit and I was so tired. So much had happened in just one day and I was having a hard time processing it. It definitely hadn’t been a typical dose day where I spent all day in bed and just relaxed. It had been so dramatic, so much fear, so much pain. I just had a hard time computing it all.

I must have dozed off. One minute, Hannibal had just left the room and the next he was stroking my face gently. It had gotten to where I could tell it was his fingers against my skin.

“Mattea,” he said softly from above me. “Wake up, meile. It’s time to eat. Wake up.”

I slowly opened my eyes. There was a silver serving platter on the table across from me. It had two bowls and a glass of water on it. I turned my head and looked up the line of Hannibal’s body and gave him a smile while I stretched as well as I could. My muscles were sore and my joints were stiff.

He smiled down at me and glided the backs of his fingers from my temple down to my jaw, his fingers guiding my face to sit up slowly. “I’ve made you dinner,” he said warmly. “Are you ready to eat?”

“Yes, Hannibal, thank you,” I said softly. I yawned and pressed the back of my hand to my mouth to cover it. I was so tired.

“You’re very sleepy,” he said while he took up a bowl and put a soup spoon into it. He expertly turned to me so he didn’t spill a drop. He was all refined elegance and grace. The man was almost too smooth. He slowly put it in my hands. The bowl was warm but not terribly hot. Steam rose gently from it. The warmth from the soup seeped into my hands, making them less stiff. 

I took up the spoon and took a bite. I could taste the celery, thyme, and garlic in it. The onions added a sweet tone to all the saltiness in the dish. It was amazing, as per usual. I settled back into the couch and moaned as the heat of the soup seemed to fill me, chasing away the last of the ice-cold fear I had somewhere near my heart. Chicken soup really soothes the soul, I guess.

He was watching me after he took a seat across from me and gathered his own bowl into his hands. He ate slowly, his eyes never leaving my face. There was a smile glittering in his there. Not only did he like his food, he liked feeding it to people. Liked sharing that part of himself. He watched me as I ate, never asking me questions, never trying to start a conversation, just wanting me to eat what I could.

I guess I was hungrier than I thought. I chewed the potatoes and the carrots, the celery and the kale slowly enough that I wasn’t being rude, but I still made quick work of the meal. I don’t know how long I ate, but I was thankful that he’d finished just as I did. The warm meal sat in my stomach and almost soothed me. I sighed deeply and shifted deeper into the couch.

“Thank you, Hannibal, that was delicious,” I said gently. 

“Does it make you feel better?” he asked as he sat up and reached for my bowl.

“Yes, Hannibal, it warmed me up the rest of the way.” I gave him a smile when his fingertips skimmed over mine. They were warm, heated from his own bowl.

“I’ll go clean up,” he said as he placed my bowl on the serving platter. He passed me the glass of water. It was an obvious instruction to drink it. I guess the two IV bags I’d been given in the hospital weren’t enough in his opinion. I took it with a soft smile and brought it to my lips. He watched me swallow, then nodded and picked up the silver tray, taking it out of the room.

Alone again, I decided to stay upright and look around the room. I’d done so before, but it was so startling. It was the brightest room in the house as far as I’d seen. The house was so big, I was sure that I hadn’t seen it all yet. Mainly Hannibal’s bedroom and bathroom. I blushed and wiped a hand over my face. I had to stop thinking of situations like that. They weren’t helping my heart quiet down.

I heard his shoes on the floor moments before Hannibal came through the doorway. He looked like nothing had happened tonight. Like it all just rolled off his back like water on a goose. He was all calm grace. Smooth elegance. He paused at the door, seeing me watch him. He tilted his head a bit, his eyes running over what he could see of me.

“Is something wrong, Mattea?” he asked calmly.

“I’m just tired, Hannibal,” I sighed. “Can we go to bed?”

He smiled then, slow and mischievous. “I love it when you ask to go to bed with me,” he said saucily. He came over to stand by me and I reached up for him. He bent and wrapped his arms around my shoulders just under my arms. He pulled me up flush against his body, facing each other. I looked directly into his eyes and gave him a soft smile. He was strength against me. I felt his muscles work along his shoulders. My left leg was bent, still on the couch, the toe of the boot being the point of contact. We just sat there looking at each other, memorizing each other for a few moments.

“I almost lost you tonight,” Hannibal said finally, his accent licking the words. “I was so afraid that you wouldn’t come back. I can’t allow that to happen again.”

“I almost lost you, too,” I said quietly. “It scared me so much when he was standing above you with that knife. He could have killed you, Hannibal. He could have taken you from me.” I was babbling and he silenced me by slanting his mouth over mine. His arms tightened around me and we kissed, hard, fast, passionate. His tongue rubbed mine and we moaned and sighed in each other’s grip. I tried to crawl into him through his mouth. My hands slid over his shoulders to cup his scratchy jawline into them while we moved around each other. I held his face fast to mine and kissed him as if I’d never see him again.

We broke apart after a few minutes, both breathless. I kept my hands at the sides of his face and we rested our foreheads together. My eyes were closed as I struggled for breath and I felt him take a step back.

“Lift up your foot, Mattea,” he said gently. I frowned and pulled my foot up a bit. It was heavy as it gently slid across the top of the couch to hang in the air. I kept my leg bent while he took another few steps back. I knew I was clear when he slowly slid me down the front of his body. My hands dropped to his arms and I looked up at him. His expression was dark, thoughts chasing across his eyes. He was contained violence again. I could feel it. It was like petting a wild lion. My breath caught in my throat.

He slowly leaned down, muscles ticking in his jaw a bit. His lips brushed mine, just a light caress. It was like he was telling me that he was harmless and soft. I could feel the predator in him. I could feel it in every muscle, every movement. It made my heart pound, but was that fear or thrill that I felt?

He pulled back and looked down at me. “I’ll never hurt you, Mattea,” he promised. “You don’t have anything to fear from me.”

“I know, Hannibal,” I whispered up to him, tilting my head back and giving him a light smile. “I’m not afraid of you. I trust you with my life.”

“Is that all?”

“Not hardly,” I laughed and leaned into him, putting my head on his chest and listening to the slow tempo of his heart. His arms came up so he could pet my braid that hung down my back. He palmed my head and just gently held me to him while his cheek rested along the top. I kept my left leg slightly bent, not touching the floor with the boot. Pain shot up and down it and I sighed.

I pulled back and looked up at him. “Hannibal, I’m tired and I hurt,” I said slowly. “Will you please take me to bed?”

“There are so many places I want to take you, but bed is the closest,” he replied before sweeping his arm under my legs and clutching me to his chest. He looked into my eyes for a moment until I laid my head along my arm across his shoulders, closing my eyes. I felt him start to move slowly, not wanting to bump my foot against anything. He moved me up the stairs and I felt that his heart didn’t shift from its calm pace while he did it. He brought me into the bedroom and sat me on the bed before reaching over and clicking on the light. I settled against my hands behind me and looked up at him, resting a head on my shoulder.

“You look so beautiful today,” he said simply. I smiled and felt myself blush a bit. There was no manipulation in his voice. He didn’t want anything from me except for me. He just wanted me, and I was happy to give myself to him. “I’ve got to go lock up. I’ll be right back.”

I nodded and watched him walk out of the room, admiring the view. I sighed softly and pulled the dark blue sweater up over my head. It felt like there was some sort of residue from where they’d stuck sensors on my chest. I tried to use the sweater to wipe the sensation away. After a few moments, I just sighed and tossed it on the box that was still beside the bed. I sat up and unclasped my bra, shrugging the straps down my shoulder. The leggings had been a bad choice for today, but who knew? I knew that Hannibal would be upset with me if I took the boot off myself, so I just lay down on my back, my legs bent over the edge of the bed. I stared up at that slanted ceiling wondering what would happen next.

I heard Hannibal coming into the room, then stopping once he hit the threshold. He just stood there for long enough that I sat up and looked at him. His gaze was locked on my breasts through hooded eyes. Desire licked his golden depths. I finished sitting up and put my hands on either side of my hips, shrugging up and letting myself slouch a bit. I leaned my head on one shoulder and smiled at him.

“See something you like?” I asked teasingly. He nodded slowly, as if he didn’t trust his voice in that moment. He moved slowly up to the bed, his eyes moving over me. I could almost feel them, like a caress of his hand. His look alone branded me. I sighed as he came to stand between my slightly parted legs. I just looked up and he just looked down. We didn’t touch, even though we were more than close enough to. I could feel that violence again, that domination running in his veins.

His hand came up to smooth my hair over my forehead, then his fingertips followed the line of my face down to my jaw. I shivered under such a light touch and closed my eyes. I felt his thumb hook under my chin and pull it up just a bit further, making me open my eyes. His were locked on mine, not blinking, not moving, just watching mine.

“I can’t make love to you tonight after you’ve been so traumatized,” he said with his accent thick in his mouth. “I want to have you, but I know you’re so tired. Know that I want you, but it’s not what you need tonight.”

“I know, Hannibal,” I said, my chin still directed by his finger. I gave him a slow blink and sighed softly. I knew he wanted me. I knew that he hadn’t had enough of me yet, but I also knew he had decided he was my caretaker above everything else, including lover. I knew he wouldn’t be selfish, even if I wanted it, too. He was right; I was very tired. It hung off me like weights.

He came down to kneel with one knee on either side of the boot. “This only comes off so you can take off your leggings,” he warned. “I’m putting it back on as soon as we get you undressed.” I nodded my understanding while his hands went around my thigh. His touch was heavy, pressing into my skin. There was so much caged promise in that touch that I shivered again. His fingers went to work unstrapping me, deflating the boot around my ankle. Once it was open, he very gently put his hand around my calf and pulled my leg free of it. He pulled the boot to one side and looked at me. His hands traced up my legs to my hips and I felt the soft scratch of his nails against my skin as he hooked my waist band. I felt his fingers miss my panty line, leaving the lacey blue where it lay. Slowly, he pulled the leggings down my legs. I lifted my hips by putting weight on my right foot, my left slightly raised off the floor. He pulled them down my thighs, then turned to my right leg. I bent it and he ran his mouth along the inside of my knee. I bit my lip to keep from moaning. Once they had been pulled off my right foot, he turned to my left leg. He was so slow, so gentle as he pulled the tight material off my foot. He barely bumped it, but I made a hiss of sound from the pain anyway. He frowned down at my foot, seeing the purple of blood all around my bandage.

“I’ve done a terrible job of taking care of you,” he said while he reached over and pulled to boot under my knee. He slowly guided my ankle back down into it, making sure I was firmly in without trying to hurt me. “I’m very sorry, Mattea, but this will hurt a bit.”

He didn’t do it quickly, but he pulled the glove of the boot around my ankle, rubbing the Velcro into place up my shin and over my foot. Then, he started strapping me in. He pulled them tight, but not tight enough to cut off circulation. He made sure the straps were secure before he pushed the little hair pump to inflate it around my calf and ankle. There would be no wiggle room in my boot while we slept. He made sure of that.

He rose slowly, his eyes hungry over my mostly naked body. I think he kept the panties just so he couldn’t do anything tonight, not that they’d stopped him before. Slowly, he pushed me back, helping me swing my legs onto the bed. I settled back against the sheets and the pillows. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to get between the sheets with this boot on. I’d likely tear them up. As I settled myself in, Hannibal went out into the hall. I could hear a door open and close before he came back into the bedroom. He had a down comforter the color of the midnight sky in winter in his hands. He quickly stepped next to me on the bed and unfurled it like some sort of expensive drape and it settled over my skin. It was soft and the down would make it warm against my naked skin. I pulled it up over my chest and tucked it under my arms, covering my chest from his view.

“I’ll be a moment, Mattea,” Hannibal said and he turned and went into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. Maybe he needed a cold shower.

I rolled onto my left side, putting my back to the bathroom. I sighed and felt the weight of the day pulling my eyelids down. It had been such a very long day and I was normally so tired on Sundays anyway. I shrugged the blanket up over my shoulder and tucked it under my chin. My left arm went under the pillow under my head and my right curled up in front of me. I was almost asleep when I heard the bathroom door open up again. I heard the soft rustling of clothes and then felt his body slip between his sheets and slide up behind me. He reached over my body and clicked off the light, then curled himself around me, making sure to avoid my boot. Wasn’t hard considering how big the boot was on my tiny foot. I fell asleep in his arms, sighing softly and nuzzling into his warmth.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW Dominance. The Butcher makes a few calls. Jack's suspicions are confirmed. He reacts in a way that Hannibal doesn't like.

It seemed like just a few minutes before I heard Hannibal’s alarm going off. I slowly became aware of everything around me. I felt the blanket move as Hannibal turned to switch off the offending sound. It clicked off and I felt him slide up behind me. His left arm went above my head and his right hooked around my waist. I felt his breath against my hair and I sighed.

“Wake up, mano meile,” he whispered. “It’s time to have another day. Wake up.”

I shifted along the line of him. I felt the sheets and his blanket around his waist, blocking his lower half from making contact with me. I sighed and my eyes slowly opened. There was light coming in from the window in the hall. The sun was beginning to creep up over the horizon. I silently sent out a prayer that today would be calmer.

I turned and looked over my shoulder at Hannibal. His face was soft from sleep and his hair was tousled. I gave him a slight smile and shifted again. His arm went further around my waist, his hand slipping up under my arm, between my breasts, and along my jaw line. His thumb went over it, tracing it lightly. I tilted my head, letting his fingers skim over my cheek. I exposed my neckline to him and he ran the tip of his nose and his soft lips up it, taking me in. Goosebumps spread across my skin and I sighed. 

“We need to start our day,” he whispered into my ear. I frowned a bit, just not wanting to. I wanted to stay in bed with him, warm and safe. He pulled away from me again, going to stand next to the bed. I turned to watch him leave. He turned to me and I could see him starting to strain against his boxer briefs and I bit my lower lip. Slowly, he pulled the blanket off over my body. His eyes watched the corners of it as it exposed more and more skin. Once he’d pulled the blanket off and I was flat on my back, he leaned in and grabbed my right ankle, slowly pulling me to him. His eyes moved over me, caressed me, stoked the flames that leapt inside me. He stepped back until he’d brought my leg to bend over the edge of the bed. Then he came to me, walking his hands up my body until he was right over me. I could feel his heat pouring down on me. I shivered lightly while he just held himself there for a few minutes.

Without warning, he lifted off me and gently pulled my left foot to hang over the edge of the bed. I felt him start to tug at the straps, not hard, but firmly. Slowly, he pulled it off me and set the boot to the side. His hands smoothed over my shin on either side of my thigh. I tried to control my body so I didn’t writhe for him. He made quick, but careful work of the wrap and stepped back.

I sat up, bracing my hands to bear my weight behind me. He moved so that he was between my feet. He was far enough from me that I wasn’t face first in his crotch. He lifted his hands to his hips and hooked his thumbs in the waist of his boxer briefs, slowly drawing them down until he sprang out, hard and ready. I reached up and clasped him in my hand lightly and his movement stopped utterly. He looked down at me and I ran my hand down him. I heard a long inhale and saw his jaw tick. I gave him another stroke, pushing back his skin. I leaned in and licked the underside of the tip and he dropped his head back, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. I lightly kissed the very tip.

Suddenly he was reaching down and pulling me up against him. My arms wrapped around his shoulders and I buried my face in his chest. His hands slid down to grip my hips, fingers curled like claws. He lifted me so I wrapped my legs around his waist and held him close to me. We were moving and I suddenly felt the hard, cold tile of the shower on my back. He pressed me up against it with his body, one hand coming up to the wall beside my head. I pulled back and felt the tile not far. He looked down at me and there was wild dominance in his eyes. 

He slanted his mouth across mine, demanding my submissiveness. I moaned into his mouth and I felt him thrust under me. He jerked back, keeping me pinned against the wall with his hips alone. He reached over and turned on the water and making it to a warm but not scalding heat. I didn’t know how he had the focus to do it, so I rocked my hips against him. I saw his eyes close and his mouth go slack as he adjusted the temperature.

Then he was back over me. I felt the hot water going over my right leg and over his shoulder down his back. He crushed me to the wall. His arms came up under mine, holding me against the tile with his hands flat on either side of my head. He bent his head and captured my mouth with his again. His tongue delved into my mouth and I felt him move hard against me. His hands came to hold my head while he explored my mouth and I felt his tip nudging me. I moaned for him and arched my back, tightening my hold around his waist.

He pulled back, keeping himself close, his breath spilling over my face. I felt an arm slide his hand down the wall to my hip. “I’ll buy you more,” he whispered over my mouth and then I felt him jerk hard. I heard fabric tear and felt him sweep everything to the side from my hip. His eyes never left mine while he did it. I felt the hand that had held my hip slowly pull my panties over to bunch in his hand where my hip and leg met.

I felt him sigh as he slowly lowered me onto him, needing no direction this time. Once the tip of him met my entrance, he thrust up hard. I cried out and bit my lip hard, my hands becoming claws on his shoulders. I felt his nails in my hip while his other arm went to hook under mine and brace himself against the wall beside my head. He paused for a moment, his eyes closed and his head bent down. My head was hard against the tiles and I was gasping for air.

I rocked on him, moved him inside me. It broke him and his concentration. I watched his lips become almost a snarl, his upper lip curling a bit. I felt him move, I felt him pull himself back, then slam his hips up to mine. I grunted at the force and hooked my right foot under my left calf behind his back, trapping him against me. His head came up and his eyes locked on mine. That wild beast was back. That sexual dominance. I felt his hand grab my hair and clench it in his fist. His hips against mine kept me against the wall. My face was close enough to run soft kisses over his collar bone and I heard him growl over me. His hips became a pounding force, a staccato of his body slamming into me. I gasped and cried out and moaned for him, encouraging him to move harder, faster. I didn’t care about the pain in my ankle as it was jostled around. I just clung to him.

I felt that building, that tightening low in my stomach. My moans increased in pitch and my nails raked over his skin from shoulder to bicep, leaving red lines in their wake. He used his hand against my hip to lift me higher and shove me back against the wall. I rocked my hips faster as he plunged into me. I clawed at him and he leaned down to take my mouth fiercely. His teeth bit at my lips and his tongue reached as far as it could into my mouth. He invaded me in every way that he could over and over again. I didn’t know if it was sweat or water that slicked our skin. He was all around me, enveloping me, pinning me. There was no escape from his raw passion. His mouth moved over mine as his hips moved inside me. I couldn’t breathe and I felt that building start to spill over.

I began crying out into his mouth and he pulled me back, lifting me again, pinning me again. I head was thrown back as far as the wall would allow and my eyes were closed. I cried out over and over and he just kept thrusting. I reached back beside my head and his hand found it, clasping it against the wall and leaving my hair. His other hand was still holding me under my hip, his fingers still claws with his nails biting into my skin.

Suddenly, it all spilled over. I screamed out as I felt my body coming apart. My hand clenched on his and my other clung to his shoulder. My legs were tight around his pounding hips. I felt my back sliding up and down the now wet shower wall as I twitched around him. Wave after wave of searing pleasure shot through me. 

He wasn’t far behind. I could feel his power intensifying. I could feel his strength around me, within me. He threw his head back and roared with passion as he climaxed inside me. He slammed my back against the wall over and over, hard but not hard enough to hurt. 

He slowed, pressing his body against mine as my grip on him loosened. I tried to keep my legs around him to help bear my weight, but they slipped over his slick skin. 

His other hand released mine and came to my other hip. He bent down and got a better grip. As he brought me back up so we were face to face, I felt him slip out of me and I gasped lightly. He leaned his forehead against mine, our breath coming in deep pants. My eyes were closed as I felt myself slowly come down from the mind-numbing climax. I was loose around him, my hands weakly clinging to him as my arms came up around his neck.

“Are you alright?” he asked me with a hoarse voice. He was breathing hard and I could feel his heart thundering against my equally pounding chest. All I could do was nod weakly against his head. 

He slowly began to slide me down the wall and the front of his body. He allowed my right leg to straighten down, my foot coming into contact with the floor before he even considered letting my left leg down. His hands slid up my sides and under my arms, his hands going flat against the wall. He leaned down and kissed my cheek, moving over to kiss my mouth. He was gentle, soft against my lips. All that fiery domination flooding out of him.

My hands slipped from his shoulders and down his chest to slip around his waist. I pulled away from his gentle mouth and leaned my head against his chest and sighed slowly. I felt his hands go to the braid that was down my back. He lightly tugged it from behind me and over my shoulder. I felt his fingers pull the elastic out of my now very frizzy hair. He slowly unwound my hair until it hung freely over my shoulder.

“Are you ready, Mattea?” he asked me, his voice soothing over me. Again, I simply nodded. He reached to pick me up around my waist and I gasped as he pulled me off my feet. He moved me until the water was sliding down my back and slowly lowered me. The spray of the shower head was at the back of my head and I tipped further back so it would run through my hair and over my face for a moment. He held me around my waist and allowed me to bend backwards. When I leaned back up, I wiped the water from my face and looked up at him. He had a very slight smile on his face, a little crinkling around his eyes as he watched me.

“Don’t put any wight on your foot,” he instructed as he turned me slowly. The water hit me at the collar bone and I leaned back along his front. He wrapped his arms around my neck and gave me a gentle hug, resting his cheek on top of my damp head. When he pulled away, he’d pulled his hands to brace my shoulders so I didn’t fall. I sighed and closed my eyes as I felt my right leg tremble slightly from my weight. I heard the snap of my shampoo bottle opening and his hand fell away from me. I leaned my left hand against the glass to keep myself upright.

He washed my hair slowly. When he turned me to rinse, his mouth went over mine and he kissed me while he wound and squeezed the suds and water from me. He only broke away to turn me back around. He feathered light kisses over my shoulder as he ran his fingers through my hair to condition every strand and comb out the knots, which were numerous. It took a while to get them all out. He turned me again to rinse and he wrapped his arms around me when he kissed me. Mine went around his waist and I held myself up that way. I felt his hands move through my hair to make sure was clean and ready before he pulled himself back up.

“I’m going to let you start getting ready while I wash myself,” he said as he wrapped his arms around my waist again, pulling me against him. He lifted me off my feet and took me dripping to the vanity. He quickly got some towels and helped me stay steady while I flicked my hair over my head and wrapped it with one of the towels. Once he was satisfied that I was steady where I was, he went back into the shower and closed the door.

I sighed as I wrapped the towel around my wet body, tucking the corner in around the top. I turned to the mirror and wiped the condensation off the front with my hand. I looked so tired. I was pale and there were dark circles under my eyes. I looked horrible and I shook my head at myself. I reached over and grabbed my moisturizer, putting some on my fingertip and rubbing it into my face. 

I was putting the finishing touches on my make-up when the shower stopped. I swept the mascara over my lashes and watched Hannibal climb out of the shower behind me. My eyebrow raised as I looked over that naked, lean body. He went over and grabbed his own towel, rubbing it over his face and chest before wrapping it around his hips. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my neck, pulling my back along him. He kissed the side of my face and looked into the mirror at me.

“Tu atrodai graziai,” he said simply. I smiled at him before he pulled away. “I’ll get dressed while you finish in here.” He then turned and went into the bedroom. I watched him go and just shook my head lightly. 

He came back in while I was bent over and combing my leave in conditioner into my hair. I spied him around my knee and saw him wearing plaid blue slacks with black lining and a light blue shirt. He had a colorful blue and green tie draped around his neck, untied as he smoothed his collar over it. I flipped my hair back up over my head and looked over my shoulder at him.

“Could you bring me my hairdryer?” I asked. He gave me a light smile and nodded, turning to leave again. He was back in just a minute or two, the black monster in his hands. He came up behind me, brushing his shirt against my hair as he leaned over and plugged it in, handing me the hairdryer. “Thank you, Hannibal.” He kissed my slightly damp shoulder and left the room again.

Once I’d dried my curls completely, I stood and looked at my reflection again. I still looked like a walking zombie, but my curls were like a halo around my head and shoulders. I’d have to live with it. I dried my body and rubbed lotion into my skin quickly. I looked over my shoulder to see Hannibal watching me carefully, as if making sure I didn’t put any weight on my left foot. I tucked the towels into a towel rack beside the vanity and smiled at him.

It was all he needed. He marched over to me and scooped me into his arms quickly, my hair no longer leaving wet spots on his shirt. His face was pleasant as he brought me in and sat me on the edge of the bed. I turned and looked at the box across the bed from me. I noticed that one of my burgundy dresses was laid out with a white bra and pantie set. He’d been busy in here. I leaned over and grabbed the panties. He stepped back and watched me slip it over my left foot first, then my right and he knelt to help me bring it up over my hips. He stayed like that to wrap my ankle securely and gently put it in the boot, strapping it in fully. I wouldn’t be able to hurt myself as long as I didn’t walk on it. Once he stood and ran a finger along my cheek, I turned and looked at the box.

“I trust you’ll be alright by yourself for a few moments,” he said as he stood above me. I nodded and he turned to go into the bathroom. I watched him slip the tie from around his neck and unbutton the shirt before he closed the door. He must have gone in for a shave.

I was tying the dress in place when he opened the door again. Sure enough, his cheeks were smooth from stubble and he was tightening the tie around his neck. He looked good. He looked at me and it looked like he thought the same thing.

“Well, hello handsome,” I said with a smile. He went to his closet and took out a matching waistcoat and blazer, putting them on quickly and buttoning up the waistcoat like an expert. He turned to me and gave me a soft smile. He looked all professional and cleaned up. He looked like a very well-dressed man.

He came up to stand in front of me only inches away from my legs. I couldn’t find my shoe so my little right foot was bare. He looked down at me and turned his head to the side. 

“Do you need your shoe?” he asked. I sighed and said I wasn’t sure if it was needed since I’d be off my feet most of the day and he agreed. “I won’t allow you to hurt yourself more,” he said. “I’ll take you downstairs so you can work in the living room. I’ll go and reschedule my patients.” I nodded and smiled and he bent to pick me up.

As usual, he made it look too easy bringing me downstairs and settling me onto the couch. He passed me my computer and put a kiss on the line of curls along my forehead. He told me that it shouldn’t take him long and he would be back as soon as he could.

Once I was alone, I leaned back against the couch. I sighed and closed my eyes. I replayed the shower in my head and my breath hitched in my throat. I’d never had him any other way than gentle. He’d always moved over me slowly. I wasn’t sure where the sexual dominance had come from. That wasn’t to say that I didn’t like it. It still gave me butterflies in my stomach and I bit my lip lightly. He was all raw sexual need and he had demanded the same from me. I’d answered his call with all of my enthusiasm, but I’d never experienced something like that before. He was so refined and polite. It was so hard to picture that domination in him.

I opened my eyes and took another deep breath. I had to stop thinking about it. I opened my computer and stared at it for a moment. I decided it was better to go back and read a few pages so I could get back in the right mindset for continuing the story.

I wasn’t sure how long it took. I was typing away on my computer when I heard Hannibal’s shoes in the foyer. I looked up at the door as he turned the corner. He had a smile in his eyes, but a serious face. I’d long ago pulled my left leg up to run along the top of the couch, it’s throbbing running up and down. He entered the room and took in the fact that I had my leg propped up and he seemed pleased with the decision.

“I’ve managed to reschedule or cancel everyone for the day,” he said as he sat across from me. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands laced together between them. “We need to get your appointment scheduled. Where is your phone?”

I thought for a moment, my brow coming down in a frown. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen it. It had been so long ago since I’d had it. So much had happened and it all just seemed to run together. I knew I’d had it within a few days, since I’d talked with Edith about my chapters. I looked around the couch and tried to find it.

Hannibal made a sound and it drew my attention back to him. “I took it from you, didn’t I?” he asked. He stood without me responding. “I remember where I put it. I’ll be right back.”

As he left the room, I shut my computer down and leaned over to slide it onto the closest green chair. I sat back and took a slow, deep breath. It was Monday and Edith normally called me with a review, so I knew I’d need my phone. I also knew that Hannibal would absolutely insist that I call the surgeon and set up an appointment, preferably today. Surgery. Not fun.

I looked up as I heard him walking closer. His pace was slower and I frowned as he came around the corner. He was staring down at the face of my phone and the look was not a happy one. My heart skipped a beat. The Butcher had called. I knew it.

“How bad is it?” I asked with a shaky voice. He’d paused at the doorway and he rolled his shoulders back, turning his head. He was defiantly not happy.

“You have sixty-eight missed calls,” he said finally. His eyes came up to mine and they were dark with some emotion. He tried to have his face look passive, but I could see that the number troubled him. “You also have voicemails. I’ve already called Jack. They’ll be here in a few minutes. We can listen to the voicemails when they get here.”

As he drew closer, I held out my hand for my phone. He looked at my hand and seemed to debate with himself on whether or not to give it to me. He sighed as he slid the rather large, black smartphone into my little hand. I took it down and bit my lip, frowning as I held it in my lap. I tapped the screen and it lit up. Yep, sixty-eight missed calls and five missed texts. I read through the texts. Two were from my editor asking if I was alright and the other three were spam asking if I’d gotten a quote on my auto insurance or trying to direct me to one site or another. Nothing special. 

Hannibal sat on the chair that wasn’t occupied by my computer. He sat back, one arm on the chair’s arm and the other across his lap, his legs crossed. His face was placid, no emotion. I looked at his eyes and saw something flicker there, but I couldn’t place the emotion. One hand came up for him to rest his chin on, his eyes distant. He was analyzing the situation; I was sure of it. Going through all the possibilities. I took a moment to scroll through the missed calls. Only around fifty were from a blocked number. They spanned two days, yesterday’s ending about an hour before we started dinner. He’d called and I hadn’t answered so he came to get me. I wondered if I had answered, would he have stayed away?

Edith had called me three times today. Normally, I answer right away, but not today. I looked at the time and saw that it was already eleven o’clock. I gave Hannibal a quick look and dialed her number.

“Mattea!” Edith answered quickly. “You gave me a scare, young lady. Where have you been? I’ve been calling.”

“I’m sorry, Edith,” I said softly. “I’m going through some stressful stuff and misplaced my phone. I’m alright, just dealing with some things.”

“Are you sure you’re ok, dear?” she asked. She always sounded like my grandma. I smiled and realized Hannibal was watching me.

“Yes, I’m sure I’m ok,” I said. “How were the chapters?”

“Oh, they were perfect,” she said. “You really know how to give an old lady hot flashes.” I laughed and blushed. “I’ll have them proofread and add them to the other chapters. How many more do you think there will be?”

“I’m not sure,” I responded. “I’ve only just had my antagonist meet my protagonist so there’s still a lot of material to go over.”

“Well, you keep up the good work, dear,” she said. “I’ll talk to you on Friday. Work hard!”

“Thank you, Edith,” I laughed. “Have a good week.” I pulled the phone away from my cheek and ended the call. Absently, I wiped the screen.

“Your editor?” Hannibal asked quietly. I nodded, my eyes still in my lap. “Was she very pleased with your work?”

“She’s always pleased with my work,” I said with a warm smile. I looked up at him and tilted my head, my curls spilling over my shoulder. “She’s always been so supportive. She’s been more like family than my own family has been most of my life.”

“I’m very glad you’ve had her, then,” he responded. 

“Hannibal, he called yesterday,” I said quietly, dropping my gaze again. I played with my fingers nervously. “He called before we went to make dinner. Maybe if I had answered, he’d have stayed away. Maybe if I’d just picked up the phone, he wouldn’t have come for me.”

Hannibal was kneeling in front of me in just a flash. He took my hands into his and looked up at me. “You have no responsibility for what happened yesterday, Mattea,” he said very carefully. “He was bound to come for you at some point. We’ll be ready the next time he comes, I promise you.”

I took my hand from his grasp and ran it over the smooth skin along his jaw. I gave him a sad smile, then frowned. I had to have some responsibility. It was me he was after. I was responsible for bringing him here and putting Hannibal at risk. I should have just stayed home.

“I can see what you’re thinking, Mattea,” Hannibal said in a low voice. “I wouldn’t have allowed you to stay somewhere unsafe. You did the right thing coming with me. Together, we will fight this battle. We will win it.”

“How can you be so sure, Hannibal?” I asked, still frowning. 

“Because there isn’t any other option,” he said simply. He knelt there on one knee and looked up at me, his face stone, completely serious. He was telling me the utter truth in his view of the world. There simply wasn’t any other option than us winning.

There was a loud knock on the door. My shoulders slumped and I felt Hannibal’s hands squeeze my hand. It was meant to be reassuring. I just wasn’t in the mood to be reassured. He stood slowly and only turned when the knock came again, followed by the doorbell. He gave an annoyed sigh, pulled on his waistcoat and buttoned his jacket. He nodded at me, turned on his heel, and left the room.

I heard Crawford before I saw him. He was already asking questions. Hannibal just said hello and guided him and, surprisingly enough, Will Graham into the room. I smiled a greeting and nodded my head.

“Good afternoon, Agent Crawford,” I said softly. My phone was heavy in my hands, far heavier than it should have been.

“Miss Smith, are you feeling better from last night?” he asked.

“Hard not to,” I joked with a light laugh.

“How’s your ankle?” Graham asked awkwardly. 

“It hurts,” I sighed and answered honestly. “As long as I don’t put any weight on it, I should be ok until I see the surgeon. Hannibal was wanting me to do that when he got my phone.”

“I see,” Crawford said, folding his hands over his brown coat. “How many calls?”

“Only fifty or so from blocked numbers,” I replied. “I had a few calls from my editor and I’m guessing some spam calls. I’m sure Hannibal told you about the voicemails.”

“Yes, he did,” Crawford grumbled. “How many are there?”

“We haven’t checked,” Hannibal answered. “We were waiting on you.”

“Well, by all means,” Crawford sighed and they stepped closer to me. Hannibal came around to my side. I felt his presence, solid and strong as my breath began to shake and my heart pound. He must have noticed and put a hand on my shoulder lightly.

I picked up my phone and tapped the screen to light it up. I double tapped the voicemail icon and put it on speaker.

“Please enter your passcode,” the robotic woman’s voice said. I put in my pin and waited, breath ever increasing. “You have seven messages.” I looked up and saw Crawford watching me. I bit my lip and waited.

The first two were from spam callers. Nothing major. Another was from my sister, surprisingly enough. She just asked me to call her back. I raised my eyebrows at that. Then his voice came through.

“I’m coming for you, my bride,” he breathed into the phone. “I’m coming to get you. Your FBI man can’t stop me. I’m coming and I’m taking you with me. You’ll be my bride at last.”

I could see my hand shaking as I held up the phone. Hannibal saw it, too, and he gave my shoulder a light squeeze. The next was from Edith asking why I hadn’t answered. She left a second voicemail, this one a bit more worried. She said she was really concerned and that I never didn’t answer my phone. She asked me to call her back as soon as possible.

“You hurt me,” the Butcher’s voice came through. It sounded like he’d been crying. “You cut me. My bride. You didn’t say no. I don’t care what he said, you’re not his! You’re mine and you always will be. I’ll have you, my bride. I’ll take what’s mine and he won’t be able to stop me. He can call you his all he wants, but he’s lying. You’re MINE!!”

Then the call ended. By the time it was over, I was shaking so hard the phone fell into my lap. Hannibal’s hand went from my shoulder to my hair and he pet me soothingly. I closed my eyes and struggled to slow down my breathing. I felt Hannibal kneel next to me and take my hand. I felt his thumb feather over my knuckles.

“Feel my hand, Mattea,” he all but whispered to me. “Feel it, don’t let the fear take over. He can’t get to you. He’s gone now. We’re safe. Feel my hand and listen to my voice. Don’t let the anxiety take hold of you.”

“I’m fine,” I panted out. I felt like I was going to throw up and put my other hand to my mouth, eyes still closed.

“You’re not fine,” Hannibal corrected, “you’re terrified. You don’t need to be. There’s nothing to be afraid of in my home but me. You know that.”

I nodded, taking a few deep breaths before I opened my eyes and saw him looking up at me. His face was serene, expressionless. Only his eyes flickered.

“What did he mean,” Crawford started very slowly, “she’s yours?” I looked up and saw his eyes locked on Hannibal. Hannibal stood, staying beside me. His hands hung down at his sides and he looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“She is mine, Jack,” he said simply. 

“I knew you two were getting too close,” Crawford said, almost like he was cussing at us. “I should have moved her the moment I felt you losing your professionalism with her.”

“I wouldn’t have let you, Jack,” Hannibal said beside me. “She was mine the moment I saw her. She was mine when I saw her sitting in her living room. She was mine when I took her into my house. She was mine when I took her into my bed. She’s always been mine. We just didn’t know it.”

“You have never been this unprofessional, Doctor!” Crawford shouted. “I trusted you to keep her safe, not take her to bed.”

“I am keeping her safe, Jack. She’s safer here than anywhere else. I will protect her with everything I have.”

“I wouldn’t have gone anywhere, Agent Crawford,” I sighed. “I always felt safe with Hannibal. He has always had my best interest at heart.”

“How can you say that?” Crawford bellowed. “He’s compromised you by doing this. He’s changed the game.”

“The game was already changed when you called me in,” Hannibal said calmly.

“I only called you in so that you could give us advice on her anxiety disorder, not to have an affair with her!” Crawford returned.

“This is much more than an affair. There’s no changing that.”

“I’m taking her, right now.” He stalked over to me and Hannibal was in his way within seconds. He was a brick wall against him. If Crawford moved, Hannibal mimicked him. There was no getting to me and after a few moments, I heard a grunt of frustration. He stormed to the other side of the room beside the door.

“You can’t take me if I don’t want to go,” I said softly.

“Then I’ll detain you,” Crawford said, turning with determination in his dark eyes.

“You can’t detain her for being my lover,” Hannibal said calmly. He walked over to stand next to me. I reached back and tried to rub my neck under my hair. I was so tense and my neck and shoulders were a mess of knots. I felt Hannibal’s hand brush mine away, then it came down over my shoulder. His thumb was working knots out of my back and his fingers were spanned over my collar bone. I closed my eyes tightly as he worked on a particularly painful knot.

“You two have no shame, do you?” Crawford breathed.

“Why should I be ashamed of a beautiful woman letting me touch her whenever I want to?” Hannibal asked, sounding completely reasonable. I blushed a bit, but his thumb was working wonders on the tension in my shoulder. “She’s mine and I can touch her wherever and whenever I want. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’ve never known you to be so impolite, Doctor,” Graham said, finally piping up.

“I’ve grown tired of hiding my relationship with Mattea,” Hannibal said, looking over at him while he tucked his other hand into his pocket. “She is unwell and hurting. I’m going to take care of her regardless of you being here. She’s mine in every way and I always look after what is mine. I apologize if you find that impolite or rude.”

“How do you feel about this, Miss Smith?” Graham asked me, making brief eye contact.

“I’ve only ever been alone in my life,” I started, dropping my gaze to my lap where my phone sat. “I’ve only ever known loneliness and heartache, rejection and betrayal. Now, I feel like I’m not alone anymore. I have someone that wants me, that shows me he wants me in almost everything he does. I like it.”

“You two are incorrigible,” Crawford sighed. At least he wasn’t yelling anymore. I looked up at him running his hand over his hair. He was shaking his head and looked beyond stressed. “This is why you wouldn’t let her leave regardless of how much danger she’s in. Don’t you see how selfish that is, Doctor? You’re putting her at risk just to keep her in your bed.”

“Know this, Jack,” Hannibal said slowly, his accent thick and licking the words. “I will go wherever she does. I will never leave her side. She is mine and I’m not giving her up. She’s comfortable here, the first time she’s felt comfortable anywhere other than her own home. She feels safe.”

“But she isn’t!” Crawford hollered again.

“Of course, I am, Agent Crawford,” I said with a deep breath. “Have you not looked around here? Look at how careful he is with his home, his things. Why would he not be careful with me? Why would he put less effort into me? I’m sure this isn’t the first time he’s had a threat to him, but he won’t stand for a threat to me. Why else would he have you step up your guard while he’s a very private person? He doesn’t want to see any harm come to me and is willing to do whatever it takes to stop it.”

I knew my words had more meaning. My mind played back to the previous night when he told me without a doubt that he would kill this Butcher without any thought. He would simply end the threat to me. By his hand or Crawford’s. I would be safe.

“You’re not a thing, Miss Smith,” Crawford said with a deadpan face. “You’re a person and your life is at risk. He should have allowed you to come with me if he cared for you that much.”

“Never doubt how much I care for her, Jack,” Hannibal said as if in warning. His hand stilled on my shoulder, but I could feel it tense up. Crawford was going to trigger something he wouldn’t like if he kept it up.

“She needs to be in protective custody,” Crawford insisted again.

“She is in protective custody,” Hannibal corrected. “With me. I will protect her. You will protect her. She’s safe here.” His hand came up off my shoulder to stroke my hair softly, brushing it over my shoulder and tucking a bit of it behind my ear.

“I’m never going to get you to agree,” Crawford mumbled. Hannibal just slowly shook his head as he tucked his other hand into his pocket. “I’ve put security on roofs around you. He shouldn’t be able to get the drop on us again. We haven’t had any luck with catching him at the hospitals.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a friend,” Graham said, turning to Crawford. “Someone that can sew him up when he gets hurt. The other women had offensive and defensive wounds on them. They fought back. He’s been hurt before, but he only waits a few weeks before he goes after another target.”

Crawford’s brain went from our relationship to the Butcher. I could almost see it click over. He frowned and his eyes were distant. “This bride is harder to get to than the others,” he observed. “You’ve hurt him after you were so polite. He knows we’ve focused our attention on you. He’ll try to draw the attention away.”

“He’ll try to take another woman,” Graham continued. “She won’t be a real target, just something to get us looking somewhere else. He’ll try to divert us from you.”

“He’ll set a trap,” Hannibal chimed in. “He’ll take another woman and once he sees you focus on that, he’ll strike. He’ll come back and expect us not to be waiting for him. What a surprise he’ll have.”

I looked up along Hannibal’s front to see his face curled up with a light smile, making his eyes sparkle. I wondered which ending he was hoping for. The one where the police caught the Butcher and put him in jail, or the one where the Butcher met the end of his knife. I watched him for a moment longer before his gaze flicked to me. He gave me a little wink and took his hand out of his pocket, placing it back on my shoulder.

“He’ll be impulsive,” Graham said. “He won’t go after his normal type. He’ll pick a woman at random and take her, probably kill her almost immediately. He’ll make more of a spectacle of her, make her seem more important than you. He’ll embellish her. He’ll add grandeur to her so that he can make you jealous. He’ll think that you’ll go with him more willingly because you’re his prize, his bride and you’ll want to be with him.”

“You mean he’ll kill another woman just because I hurt him?” I asked, sitting up and out of Hannibal’s reach. The idea was jarring. He’d murder someone else because I’d rejected him. I’d put another woman at risk because I hadn’t gone along with him.

Hannibal was there beside me. His finger came to my chin and pulled my eyes up to look at him. “This won’t be your fault,” he said seriously. “Any killing this Butcher does is completely on him. You have no guilt in this, Mattea.”

“But Hannibal, someone completely unsuspecting is out there about to get kidnapped, killed, and raped because of me.”

“No,” Hannibal said with finality. “Someone is going to get taken and killed because the Butcher is a psychopath that believes you are his. He’s going to try and force you through your own good nature and guilt you into going with him. Don’t let him win. Only you can.”

I frowned at him, thinking his words over. He’d taken Hannibal down the last time he’d been here. He’d reached for me and I lashed out at him. Would I willingly go with him if he dangled another woman’s life in front of me? Would I leave Hannibal? I just didn’t know.

“Don’t even think it, Mattea,” Hannibal said quietly, watching the thoughts flicker through my eyes. “Don’t even imagine leaving me to save someone else. I’ll never allow it. You are most important to me. I won’t let you go.”

“Hannibal, I was fine with being bait,” I said with a frown. “I’m not ok with him targeting and killing another woman.”

“There is nothing you can do about that,” Hannibal responded. “What the Butcher decides to do is out of your hands. It’s his decision and not yours. The guilt, the blame is on him, not you. You need to allow it to stay there.”

“Hannibal,” I started, but he silenced me quickly by taking my jaw in his hand, his fingers reaching under my chin and running along the front of my throat. He made me look into his eyes, didn’t allow me to look anywhere but his face.

“You are innocent, you are blameless, and you are mine,” he said slowly. He made no room for doubt with his tone and his look. He held me very still and his eyes were locked on mine. There was no one there but us and he was telling me the brutal truth. His face was blank, but completely dominant. There was no getting around his words. They just were the truth and his eyes said I needed to accept it. I swallowed hard and he watched me digest what he’d said. He didn’t let me drop my gaze until the worry smoothed around my eyes. Then he moved his hand up to brush the back of his fingers over my cheek.

“He’s right, Miss Smith,” Crawford said reluctantly, reminding me that they were there. I looked up to him and saw his eyes flickering between Hannibal and me. “You’re not to blame if he does target another woman. He’s been doing this for months. You’re no more responsible for the women that came before you than you are for the new one. Nothing you could do will stop this. Well, nothing anyone will allow.”

I sat back against the arm of the couch, frowning into my lap and playing with my fingertips. I gave a big sigh and shook my head. I really didn’t like the idea of another woman falling victim to this guy because I’d protected Hannibal. I would do it again, but I don’t know, maybe differently? I wouldn’t have let him hurt him, that was for sure. I just didn’t know how I’d have done it differently for a different outcome.

“So we’re settled,” Crawford said. I looked up and saw his hands out as he looked at everyone in the room individually. “We’re going to add higher security to the house and wait for him to strike again. No one is leaving and I guess you two are lovers. Great.” His voice was so flat when he said the last it made me smile.

“Yes, Jack,” Hannibal said beside me. Graham just nodded and started backing out of the room. Hannibal put a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“I’d like to have a word with you outside, Doctor,” Crawford said sternly. I really hoped he wasn’t going to try and bring up the lovers thing again. I didn’t think it would go well if he did. I looked up at Hannibal and he gave me a warm smile, then walked to join the other men at the door and I heard the door shut firmly behind them.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rheumatologist makes a visit and Hannibal finds out what Mattea's been hiding. They come up with a plan to bring the Butcher out of hiding. Hannibal's dominant streak continues to show.

Hannibal came in after a few minutes outside. He shut the door and I heard the lock click. He didn’t come into the living room for a few moments and I frowned lightly. Either Crawford said something he didn’t like, or he wasn’t wanting to have the conversation with me that we both knew was coming. 

I heard his shoes slowly click and saw him finally step into the room. He was pretending to study his nails and his face was drawn down in a frown of his own. I heard him sigh and I leaned back against the arm of the couch, dropping my own gaze.

“Never consider going with the Butcher and leaving me again,” he said slowly.

“Hannibal, I-“ I started, looking up at him.

“I saw the thought cross your face just as surely as I see you smile,” he said as his head came back up. “You won’t save anyone and you’ll condemn yourself. I’ll lose you. He will take you and he will destroy you. Never let that thought cross your mind again.”

His face was stone and his voice were firm. He was caged anger and swirling dominance. He stared at me, his eyes moving over every inch that he could see. He was branding me as his with those eyes. He was taking in the view of me and slowly that anger started to cool.

“Promise me you won’t leave me,” he said in a soft voice.

The look in his eyes broke me. It was quite determination with just hints of desperation swirling in those honeyed pools. He locked those eyes on mine and just stood there, his fingers laced in front of his hips. He didn’t move. He just waited for me to answer.

“Oh, Hannibal,” I sighed. It was like a light switch and he was moving towards me quickly. He took my hands and pulled me up, turning me once I stood on my bare right foot. His arms went around me and crushed me to his chest. I reached up his back and held him gently compared to the tight grip he had on me. I heard his heart thump slowly under my ear as I pressed my head against his chest. I felt him rest his cheek against the top of my head after he breathed in my scent. He held me as if I’d already slipped away from him and he was trying to bring me back.

“Hannibal,” I whispered into his chest. His arms tightened even more. 

“Don’t ever think of that again,” he said over my head, one hand coming up to smooth my hair down my back. It was another order and I closed my eyes. I let my hands move up and down his jacket back and breathed him in. I felt him solid and strong around me. I knew there would be no going back. That I was here to stay. I sighed and leaned my weight into him. I felt the muscles in his back flex as he took on the extra pounds. He made no comment, no move to step back. He just stood there and pet me, held me to him.

It was long moments before he finally moved back. His hands went from my back to my arms, gliding down until he held my hands. His were so big over mine and he just looked at them, rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles. He turned them over so my palms were facing up and his hands slid up around my wrists. He ran his thumbs over the ridges of the deep scars there.

“I could have never found you,” he said absently. “You could have been taken from me by your own hand long before I met you. I’m thankful that your attempts failed. I’m thankful that you’re here, in my home, in my arms.”

He looked up at me then, his eyes swimming with emotion. I frowned and felt like I should apologize for being suicidal and depressed most of my life. The words were there, just waiting to fall from my lips. It sounded so crass in my head and I just shook my head.

He brought my hands up, gently turning them to the side and brushed his lips against those raised scars. His eyes were locked on mine, still swirling with something I couldn’t place. He kissed one, then turned to kiss the other, holding my wrists in his powerful, soft hands. His fingers wrapped completely around my wrists and met his palms on the other side. It was intimate, it was gentle, it was powerful.

“I won’t leave, Hannibal,” I said softly, looking up at him. “I promise I won’t leave you. I don’t like the idea of someone else dying. It makes me very uncomfortable. It makes me sad. I know I will mourn whomever he takes in my place, but I can’t leave you. I can’t abandon you like so many others have abandoned me. I know how it feels. I can’t put you through that.”

He smiled at me then, starting slow with just an upturn of his lips, then pulling into a warm, gentle grin. He lifted my wrists so my arms wrapped around his neck and he bent to lift me. I was face to face with him, my little foot dangling above the ground. His eyes moved over my face and I just watched them, tilting my head to the side. He slowly leaned in, his eyes moving over my lips until he brushed his against them. His eyes closed and I watched all that worry, all that concern just slip from his features. I closed my eyes and deepened the kiss as my tongue slipped between his lips. He welcomed it warmly and his arms flexed around me. My hand reached up and ran through his soft hair. I kissed him and he kissed me, our tongues dancing and dashing into each other’s mouths, soft moans escaping both of us.

He pulled away reluctantly and I opened my eyes. He slowly slid me down his body and set me onto my foot. “We need to call your surgeon,” he said with a sigh. “Those ligaments won’t heal themselves.” I nodded and he helped me sit back along the couch, lightly pulling the boot from behind me to stretch along the top of the cushions. He grabbed my phone from where it had clattered to the floor when he’d stood me up. I sighed once he handed it to me.

The call took only minutes. When they tried to schedule me for next week, Hannibal took my phone and told them that it couldn’t wait. He told them he’d send them the images taken last night and that I needed to be scheduled right away. When they mentioned a consult before surgery, he turned them down, saying that I’d consulted enough with the doctor and that it needed to be done now. The settled on a surgery date for Friday at nine in the morning. Hannibal was pleased with that and hung up the phone, handing it to me.

“We’ll keep you off your feet until then,” he said to me with a light smile.

“If you had it your way, I’d never leave the bedroom,” I returned, giving him a smile of my own.

“If I had it my way, you’d never leave my side,” he corrected. “But I can’t have it my way. You need to work, as do I. We can both work at the same time, but you can’t be close to me while I see patients. I’ll keep you where you’re safe. I’ll keep you upstairs where you can do your writing at one of the desks. I’ll be able to hear anyone that comes into the house. I’ll be able to stop him before he comes for you.”

“He won’t come for me, Hannibal. Not for a long time. He’ll come knocking on someone else’s door.”

“Eventually, Mattea, he’s going to come back for you,” Hannibal said slowly, sitting down in one of the chairs and crossing his legs. His face had gone back to calm speculation. “He’s fixated on you. You’re the one that got away, and he won’t be able to let you go. Don’t worry too much, meile. I won’t let him get to you. I will take him out of the equation and erase him from your life.”

“How will you do it, Hannibal?” I asked as I settle back into the couch. I folded my hands in my lap and titled my head, frowning at him. My hair went over my shoulder and caressed my skin like silk.

“How will I kill him?” he asked. I nodded, so he answered, his eyes going distant as if picturing it. “I will slit his throat. I will watch him bleed out onto the floor, gasping for air. I will watch the desperation in his eyes while he tries to fight for breath. I will cut him so deeply that it won’t just be his veins I open. I will watch the light slowly fade from his eyes and know that he is no longer a threat to you.”

His words should have frightened me, but they didn’t. My pulse didn’t speed up a bit. My breathing was slow and calm. I just looked at him until he looked back at me. He searched my eyes, looking for anything that would suggest rejection of the idea. He found nothing. Just me watching him in turn. It was as if we were just having a conversation about the weather or what we’d done that day. I knew that one day, the Butcher would likely meet his end at the hands of the man I called mine.

“Well, it’s only twelve-thirty,” Hannibal sighed, looking at his watch. He dropped his hand and smiled up at me. “What should we do with the rest of our day?”

“My rheumatologist should be sending her nurse to take blood in about a half hour,” I said softly. He’d forgotten my appointment. I hadn’t because I’d been feeling a bit stiff all day. Could it be the RA or the workout in the shower, I wasn't sure, but it was better safe than sorry, I guess.

“Ah, yes, your rheumatologist,” he replied. “Have you given them my address yet?”

I laughed lightly. “You haven’t given me your address yet. I have no idea where I’m at currently.” 

He smiled at me in turn. “Dial their number and I’ll give them the address. You’ll do most of the talking, but I’ll give them the address.”

Then phone call was quick. They appreciated me telling them where I was at while I was away from home. They said the nurse would be there in about fifteen minutes to take blood and that my doctor would call me to talk about how I was feeling. I knew Hannibal would be listening in and probably asking some questions. He wanted to know about my condition, more than what I’d told him. I looked up at him after I ended the call.

“Hannibal, you’re not going to like what my doctor has to say if you ask her about my condition,” I said slowly. I watched him put an elbow on the chair’s arm and bring his hand up to run it along his chin thoughtfully.

“I’m aware that you probably haven’t told me the whole story about your illness”, he said. “You have a tendency to underplay things when it comes to your health, mental or otherwise.”

“I told you that it’s moderately severe and it is,” I said somewhat defensively. He smiled at me almost placatingly. 

There was a timid knock on the door and Hannibal stood to answer it. I heard Jenny, my nurse, come in. She introduced herself as the nurse and asked where I was. I called for her and she came in, smiling as always. She was six-two with short blond hair and green eyes and heavily pregnant with her third child. She only had about a month left before he was born. She was wearing some maternity pants under her scrubs top. 

“Hi, Mattea,” she said in greeting.

“Hello, Jenny, how is the baby?”

“Oh, he’s active as always,” she answered. I pulled my boot over and down to the floor so she could sit down. “Oh, what did you do?”

“I fell down my stairs,” I said sheepishly.

“She was pushed down the stairs,” Hannibal corrected. He was by the doorway watching us. Once I looked up at him, he came to stand behind the couch to see a bit closer.

“Who pushed you?” Jenny asked.

“Just some crazy guy,” I said, playing it off as nothing.

“A serial killer,” Hannibal corrected again. I gave him a look telling him to stop correcting me. He just smirked.

Jenny’s eyes went big and she looked from me to him, then back again. “What serial killer?” she asked in a shocked voice.

“The Baltimore Butcher,” Hannibal answered absently. “That’s why she’s in my home to begin with. She’s under protective custody.”

“Oh, geese,” Jenny said as she collected the vials for the blood draw. “We’ll need a full panel this time. Katy wants to check everything.” 

“Great,” I sighed, extending my left arm. It had the best veins.

“You’re drawing nine vials?” Hannibal asked. “What does she consider a full panel?”

Jenny rattled off a bunch of tests that I had no idea what they meant, but Hannibal did. His face darkened a bit as she went along. She didn’t realize it because she was too busy prepping me for the blood draw. 

“How often does she do this?” Hannibal asked again. 

“She draws blood every three months, but only does a full panel every six to nine,” Jenny answered as she pushed the needle into my vein. She pushed one of the vials into the other end of the needle and I saw my blood shoot into it.

“Have there been any anomalies since she started taking her immunosuppressive therapy?” 

“Yeah, her liver and kidney functions are somewhat decreased. This one will test to see if she has any cancers or any signs of complete failure.” Jenny was slowly making my afternoon worse and worse.

Hannibal stood still and watched her carefully. I looked back at him and saw that he had his hands in his pockets again. His face was expressionless, only his eyes betrayed his thoughts and they weren’t happy ones.

“How bad are her liver and kidney functions?” he asked.

“I don’t know for sure. You’ll have to ask Katy when she calls. She has all the results on the office tablet and I don’t have it with me.”

He nodded slowly. I was on my sixth vial and starting to feel a little light headed. Jenny asked me to flex my hand a bit to get more blood pressure going. I watched his jaw tick. My health was definitely a concern for him. 

My phone rang and I looked down. It was my rheumatologist. I answered and put it on speaker without being asked. He gave me a slight upturn of his lips.

“Mattea, how are you feeling today?” asked Katy after I answered.

“I’m doing ok,” I said. “I did have a little run-in with someone who pushed me down the stairs last week. I have a very torn up ankle as a result.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Katy replied. “How bad is it?”

“A hairline fracture and two completely torn tendons,” Hannibal answered for me. I looked back and he raised his eyebrow at me, daring me to say something different.

“Who is that?” asked Katy.

“I’m Dr. Hannibal Lecter,” he answered. “I’m taking care of Mattea in my home. She’s under protective custody.”

“Protective custody? Why on earth is that?”

“She has a serial killer on her tail,” Hannibal said. “How severe is her condition?”

“Well, if she wasn’t on her meds, she’d be wheelchair bound already,” Katy said honestly. I cringed. “She has to take top doses of her meds in order to bring down her inflammation markers but the disease is still eating at her joints and even her internal organs. We have to draw blood every three months to make sure we’re not killing her.”

Hannibal’s jaw ticked again. “Killing her?”

“Yes, the disease itself attacks everything in her, sees everything as a threat. That’s why she has so many allergies. It goes after her heart, her liver, her kidneys, whatever it can get to. That’s why we struggle so hard to make sure everything is in line. Add to that the fact that her meds that we use to keep her inflammation down can cause serious health complications of their own and you see the full consequences of having RA.”

“How are her organs?” he asked slowly.

“Well, her liver and kidneys didn’t look all that great with the last tests,” Katy answered. “If they don’t look any better with this draw, we’ll have to take her off one or more and change it to something else before we do too much damage. The problem is, the other medications that we could put her on are just as dangerous, if not more.”

His eyes met mine and I saw that he wasn’t very happy. He didn’t like what he was hearing and I just slumped as Jenny took the needle out of my arm and wrapped my elbow in bright pink sports tape.

“Do you have any other questions for me?” Katy asked. Hannibal said no, and I told her I would be ok. “We’ll call you with the results tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Katy,” I said softly and pushed the end button on the screen.

“Well, that does it for me, too,” Jenny said, putting my blood vials into a cooler. “I’ll see you soon. Get feeling better.” I nodded and Hannibal showed her out.

He came back in slowly, his hands in his pockets and his eyes down. “You didn’t tell me that your liver and kidneys might be shutting down with these medications,” he said.

“The functions are only a little off,” I replied. “It’s not too bad yet. They’re monitoring me closely. It will be ok.”

He came and sat down in the chair again and finally brought his eyes up to mine. “You really are a terrible patient,” he said. There was a hint of a smile in his eyes. “You need to let me know what’s happening with your health. I’ll attend your appointments whenever I can. We’ll get you healthy.” He paused. “What next?” He must have seen that I was tired and didn’t really want to talk about it any further at the time.

“How are the food stores?” I asked him with a smile.

He frowned at that. “We need more meat for the rest of the week,” he sighed. “I’m afraid I need to visit my butcher again.”

“Do you plan your meals before you pick your ingredients or is it just whimsy?”

He gave me a knowing smile and his eyebrow ticked up. “Normally, I allow my meals to come to me, in a way. I can’t do that with you here so I have to go out and get it. I’ll think up something tasty for us for the week and we’ll call for our armed guard. Are you alright with going out?”

“As long as you’re with me, Hannibal,” I said, shaking my head lightly and spilling more curls over my shoulder.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said simply and stood. “I’ll go into the kitchen and do some meal planning while you work on your novel. Do you need anything before I go?”

“No, Hannibal, I’m fine, thank you,” I sighed. He passed me back my computer and I opened it as he walked out of the room. His words would come back to me as I wrote. His description of how he would kill the Butcher echoed inside me. I could picture it. I could see the Butcher on his knees and Hannibal standing behind him, holding his head back. I saw his hand jerk across the Butcher’s throat and the skin part to spill red blood everywhere down him. I could see him stand as the Butcher slumped against him. His face was calm, serene. He had no emotion about killing him. It was like he was slaughtering a pig. For some reason, that didn’t bother me at all.

I’d finished my second chapter when he came back into the room. He was smiling lightly as he turned the corner and I looked over my computer at him, fingers still working to finish the paragraph I was on.

He paused next to me as I watched him and he tilted his head, my fingers still running over the keyboard. “It’s like you’re playing an instrument,” he said. “Instead of notes, you string words together to make music in stories.”

“I thought being descriptive was my talent,” I said and I winked at him. Once I finished my paragraph, I closed my computer and slipped it down my left thigh, balancing it against the back of the couch. “Have you thought up many delicious meals for us to eat together?”

“I have,” he replied, nodding his head once. “I’ve already called and made my order. Our outing should be simple and quick. I’ll have to leave you in the car with our guards while I pick up everything I need. I don’t want you moving around too much, even if you are more comfortable with the crutches.”

“Why not just leave me here?” I asked while stretching my arms in front of me. “The guards can keep an eye on me and you’ll be able to get everything.”

“I won’t let you out of my sight for that long,” Hannibal said, turning his head, his face completely serious. “You’re going to come with me, but I’ll keep you in the car. You’ll be more secure there where he can’t get to you without someone noticing him first.”

“Hannibal, we have rooftop snipers here,” I said with a light laugh. “I’m sure they’d see him coming here a mile out. Maybe even two.”

“Call me selfish,” he started, “but I want your beauty with me wherever I go.” I laughed again and shook my head. “I’ve already called for our ride. They should be here soon. I think I saw a nice black pump in the guest room. I’ll go collect it with a coat for you and be right down.”

I watched him walk out of the room again. His posture was perfect, he moved with the grace of a lion, and his body was tall, lean, and strong. How did he pick me? I was short, squat, with lots of hair and tiny everything else. How in the world did he pick me? I couldn’t understand it. No one had ever picked me, yet this powerful, aristocratic, dominant, intelligent, and painfully polite man had. He’d picked me. I didn’t know if I had any competition or not, but he’d still chosen me. He didn’t strike me as a desperate man. He was choosey with everything in his life. I would imagine the woman he slept with would also be something he was picky about, too.

I was still trying to figure it out when he came into the room. He had my long black coat in one hand and one of my leather black pumps in the other. He paused and frowned at me, tilting his head.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m just confused,” I said, shaking my head and laughing it off. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing major.” 

He came to stand by me holding my coat and shoe and just looked down at me. “What are you confused about?” he asked slowly.

I looked up at him and those same questions swirled in my head. I frowned and bit my bottom lip lightly. Should I ask him? What if he just says I was in the right place at the right time? How would that impact me?

“Mattea, you can ask me anything,” he said seriously. “Any question you have I will answer honestly.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I responded and sighed, dropping my gaze. He didn’t move, just stood there in front of me. I could see his legs over my knee. He didn’t even shift his stance. He was still. I looked up at him again, slowly. I found his eyes studying me. His brow was down in a light frown. “Why me?” I heard myself ask.

“Why you?” he returned, frowning harder. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

“Why have you picked me, Hannibal? Why have you decided I’m yours over anyone else?” The bell was rung and I held my breath to wait for his answer.

To his credit, he took the question seriously. He turned and took a seat on the chair across from me and crossed his legs. He folded my coat across his lap and placed my pump over the coat. He licked his lips slightly and his eyes seemed to search for the correct wording in the air.

“You’re highly intelligent,” he started. “You’re a very good conversationalist, and you’re polite. You don’t see your own beauty, inside as well as out, so you have humility and you’re humble. You’re passionate.” He paused and locked his eyes with me, making sure I was paying attention. “You accept me in everything that I’ve shown you.”

“Why wouldn’t I accept you, Hannibal?” I asked, confused.

“I told you very plainly that I fully intend to kill someone,” he said seriously. “I told you that I am going to slit his throat and watch him die. You didn’t blink an eye. You just accepted it. You didn’t question me or try to have the moral high ground. You accepted that I’m going to kill him, that I think it’s in our mutual best interest to remove the threat to us.”

“He’s threatened you. He’s broken into your house and attacked you. He’s been terribly rude, don’t you think?”

Hannibal actually laughed. His smile spread into his eyes and they glittered. I’d heard him chuckle, but I’d never heard him actually laugh like that. It made me smile.

“That’s not the only reason I’m going to kill him,” Hannibal said after he’d stopped laughing, though the smile was still in place. “He’s threatened to take what’s mine. He’s threatened to take you from me. He’s threatened to make you like the other women he’s taken, dead, raped, desecrated. I won’t allow him to do that.”

“I’ll bet that if he knew that you and I were lovers, he’d be much angrier,” I said somewhat uncomfortably. “He already views you as the enemy. If he knew you’d claimed me completely, he’d probably lose his mind.” 

He thought about that for a moment. He rolled it around in his mind. I could see it ticking away behind his eyes. He was coming up with something. He was scheming something. 

“You’re right,” he said finally. “If he were to know without a doubt that you are mine in every way, he’d become impulsive and reckless. Perhaps we could get him to come out into the open. It would definitely upset him enough.”

“How are we going to do that, Hannibal?” I said with a chuckle. “Go make out somewhere entirely public?”

“I’m suggesting that I kiss you in public,” he replied, tilting his head at me. His face was serious. This wasn’t a joke. 

“I don’t know, Hannibal,” I said, frowning. “What if it causes him to really do something awful to the next woman because we made him angry?”

“He doesn’t believe that you’re not his,” Hannibal reasoned. “He still thinks he has claim on you. Once he sees for himself that you are, in fact mine, it will make him desperate. He’ll want to reestablish that you’re his bride. He might make a mistake and get caught. It might make his threat to you end either by Jack’s hand, or mine.”

“Hannibal, don’t you think this is a bit impulsive? Besides, it would be a very public display of affection. Don’t you think that’s a bit improper?”

“I would never consider showing you affection improper,” he said very seriously. “I’m not going to make love to you in public; it will just be a kiss. It might be a deep kiss, but nothing salacious.”

“I think your idea of salacious is different from mine,” I laughed. “The way you kiss me sometimes is rated ‘M’ for mature. You scramble my brain with the way you kiss me.”

I saw a smile spread over his face and his golden eyes glitter. He slowly sat up and stood. I watched him almost prowl to me, like a big cat coming up on its pray. Once he was beside me, he leaned over me. I tilted my head back, watching him come to me. His eyes moved over my face, only to rest on my lips. His hand came to the base of my throat, slowly sliding up to span my jaw as his face came down to capture my mouth with his. It started slowly, gently, just a brush against my lips. The second sweep became more passionate. His mouth pressed down against mine and his tongue swept over my bottom lip. I opened up for him and he all but dove into my mouth. He pushed me back into the couch and his hand held my jaw, keeping me in place while he devoured me. He was dominant again, demanding my submission. He gave me a moan of his own, only it came out more like a growl. His hand went from my jaw to my hair. He grabbed a fist full of it, crushing it against the back of my head. 

There was a knocking at the door. Hannibal pulled back and leaned his forehead against mine while we fought to catch our breath. I opened my eyes to see his still closed and his mouth slightly open. The knock came again and he released my hair, closing his mouth and grinding his teeth together for just a minute. He stood stiffly and turned his head slightly, straightening his tie a bit. I watched his jaw tick again and then he opened his eyes. He smoothed his waistcoat and jacket down the front of him. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and went to open the door.

I pressed the back of my hand to my parted lips and took in a slow, deep breath. My heart was pounding and all I could think of was his mouth moving over mine. I heard voices from the foyer. I put my hand down and licked my lips. Hannibal came into the room and his eyes went to my tongue moving over my bottom lip. His eyes went hooded and he closed them, swallowing hard.

Once he’d regained his composure and stood next to me, he introduced the two men standing in the living room as Agents Andrews and Byron. They would be our armed guard for the day. I smiled and introduced myself, apologizing for not getting up and shaking their hands. They gave me smiles and said that they understood.

“Well, I suppose we should get on with it,” Hannibal said. He first grabbed my shoe and helped me slip it onto my tiny foot. Then he bent and reached for my hand and helped me stand. I swung my left foot down, but very gently put it on the floor. “No weight,” he warned. He grabbed my coat and helped me put it on. When I tipped slightly, his hand went to my waist to support me. I looked over my shoulder at him and he winked before he swung me up into his arms.

“Hannibal, really,” I said with a smile. “I can walk with the crutches.”

“I prefer you this way,” he replied. He gave me a happy smile and I looked over to see the Agents shake their heads. They, of course, opened the front door and closed it behind us. Hannibal had asked them to lock it before they left.

It was like the FBI only had one type of vehicle. A big black SUV was at the curb. Hannibal walked me around to the driver’s side. One of the Agents opened the door and he slid me inside. He held my hand for a moment and gave it a light squeeze. Then he disappeared to climb into the other side. I watched him situate himself and buckle himself in. The Agents got into the front seat and asked Hannibal where we were going and he gave the address to them.

During the ride, Hannibal reached over and grabbed my hand. He leaned over and opened my palm, leaving a light kiss there. My fingers ran over his cheek before he drew my hand away. He laced his fingers with mine and I looked up at him from our hands. He still had a glimmer of that heat in his eyes. I bit my lip and his eyes followed the movement. For a moment, I thought he would slide over and continue what we’d started in the living room, but I watched him close his eyes tightly and swallow hard. He was trying to keep himself in control. I couldn’t help but smile at the struggle.

I sighed and looked out the window at the passing cars and streets. The colors on the trees blazed in the sunlight. They were brilliant and breathtaking. I thought autumn in Idaho was beautiful, but there were more trees here. It was lovely and I got caught up in it, but there was always his hand in mine. A solid link to safety that kept the anxiety of being out in public caused me away. I felt it at the back of my mind. That fear, that engrossing terror of being exposed. It was even worse now that I had the Baltimore Butcher hunting me. Hannibal was my moving safe spot. His strength, his determination was what I needed to stay grounded and allowed me to enjoy being out of the house.

We arrived out front of the same butcher shop he’d taken me to the first night we’d been together. He told the Agents in the front seat to keep an eye out and that he wouldn’t be long. He slid out of his seat and I watched him go into the shop. I sat in silence in the back seat, feeling that tickling sensation of fear threading up my spine. I took slow, deep breaths and closed my eyes. I felt the sensation of his hand on mine and tried to cling to it. I heard my breaths become shudders and I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to ground myself in the present instead of giving in to the fear.

“Miss Smith?” came a voice from the front seat. “Are you alright?”

I tried to answer, I really did. I just kept breathing; each breath shallower than the one before it. I could feel the shaking begin to take my body and I bent over, clutching my arms through my coat. I could feel the burning crawling up my neck to my ears. It was taking hold of me and there was nothing I could do to stop it. 

Distantly, I heard a car door open and slam shut. I heard one of the Agents from the front seat calling my name, but I couldn’t focus on it. The anxiety, the fear was too much. I shivered from a cold that was inside. I kept my eyes tightly closed and I gasped for air that just wasn’t coming.

Suddenly, the door beside me was jerked open. I felt hands on me and I screamed, thinking it was the Butcher trying to pull me out of the car. I fought and tried to crawl away, but the hands were too strong. They pulled me so that my feet hang out of the door and they grasped my face, pulling me up. There was something familiar in that grip. 

I heard Hannibal's voice far off somewhere. He was calling to me. “Mattea!” he said. “Mattea, listen to me. Hear my voice, Mattea. I’m right here. You’re not alone. Listen to me. Feel my hands, Mattea! Look at me!”

He kept calling me, trying to bring me back from the dark. Hannibal’s hands on my face tightened, his thumbs moved over my cheekbones. His voice was calm, but demanding. I could hear him echoing in my head. I wanted to go to that sound, that touch. I crawled to it in the dark. My shaking hands went to his arms, clinging to them.

“That’s right, Mattea,” he almost sighed. “Come back. I’m sorry I left you. I’m here now. You’re safe.”

“Hannibal,” I gasped out. My hands crawled up his arms to his shoulders. He came to me and wrapped his arms around me. My hands clawed at his back, bringing him closer and closer. He slipped between my legs and I felt to boot bump against the side of the car. It should have hurt, but I was too wrapped up in fear and damn near hysteria to notice. He kept whispering into my ear, soothing me. Slowly, my breathing stopped shaking and my muscles relaxed bit by bit. He felt it and pulled back, his hands going to my face again. I opened my eyes and looked into his. They were calm and warm.

“There you are, Mattea,” he said quietly. He gave me a gentle smile. He pulled my face down and his lips captured mine. He didn’t demand anything from me, just kissed me. His mouth moved over mine almost delicately. I felt him wash away the fear with just the movements of his lips. I felt him replace it with peace and stability. He didn’t pull away until my breath had deepened and I sighed into his mouth.

He stepped back somewhat, still holding my face. “Open your eyes, Mattea,” he said. “Look at me. Let me see that you’re alright.”

Very slowly, I peeked open my eyes. He was there and I could see a small crowd gathering behind him. I blushed furiously at how he’d kissed me in front of all those people. I dropped my face and turned my head so people couldn’t see me as well. Hannibal let me and stepped away. He helped me turn back into the car and shut the door beside me.

“She should be fine while I go pay,” I heard him tell the Agent in the front seat. He gave me a look through the window and turned to go around the vehicle and back into the shop. I watched him go and licked my lips, tasting him there. I closed my eyes again and replayed the sensations of his mouth over mine over and over. I let it anchor me while he was away.

The car door opening was what made me look over and see Hannibal climb in beside me. He didn’t stay against the door. He climbed over the seat to come right up along side me. His hand came up and caressed my cheek.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes searching mine, looking for the fear. I just sighed and leaned into him. His arm went around my shoulders and tucked my head against his chest. His heartbeat was ever regular. The only time I’d ever heard differently was when we were in bed. I took slow, deep breaths and listened to his heartbeat, matching mine to his and chasing away the last of the fear.

Once he felt me relax against him, he started petting my hair. I heard one of the Agents ask him to move back to his spot so he could buckle up and he told them he’d do nothing of the sort. He informed them that he was going to stay stuck to my side until he got me home. They must have realized that he was serious because the SUV was put into gear and we drove away.

“Mattea, please sit up and look at me,” Hannibal said over me. As I slowly sat up his hands gently brushed my hair away from my face. He ran his finger up the front of my throat to my chin and brought my gaze up to his. “Are you alright?”

“I’m sorry, Hannibal, I didn’t mean to fall apart like that,” I said in a rush. He hushed me and tucked a curl behind my ear.

“I shouldn’t have left you like that,” he said solemnly. “I know your anxiety disorders and I triggered them. I’m the one who should be sorry.” He pulled me in and pressed his mouth hard against mine. Where his lips were gentle and soft before, this was more intense, more passionate. He kissed me as if he’d just gotten me back, like he’d lost me somehow. I felt his hands go to my hair and clench the curls, crushing them against my cheeks. He didn’t pull, he just held me there while his mouth explored mine.

Someone cleared their throat in the front seat and Hannibal pulled back. I opened my eyes to see him searching my face again. I sighed deeply and licked my lips again. His eyes followed the slow sweep of my tongue. He made a sound low in his throat that only I could hear and dropped his hands. I swept my hair out of my face and shyly looked at the Agents in the front seat. Hannibal settled back against the seat and his hand went to mine, lacing his fingers through mine. He was solid, he was with me, and I was safe.

We pulled up in front of Hannibal’s house. He leaned down and picked up a large brown bag from the floorboards. He let go of my hand and slid over to get out on the passenger side. I watched him go up to the door and unlock it, opening it up so he could put the bag inside the door. He turned and stepped down, coming around to the driver side just as the Agent opened my door.

I could see that Hannibal was up to something when he reached in for me. He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me up against his body. It was one of his favorite things to do, pull me up so I could look him directly in the eye. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders as I slid out. He smiled at me and held me close, sweeping in for another kiss across my lips. This one was light, but lingering, more lips grazing across each other than a kiss. Then, he stepped to the side so the Agent could shut the door and slowly put me down on the ground.

“Are you ready to go home, Mattea?” he asked me with a smile. I nodded and he swept me up again, cradling me to his chest. I smiled and buried my head in his neck, giving his pulse a little lick. He paused just slightly, but I noticed it. I was going to pay for that one later.

Hannibal got me inside and put me back on the couch. The Agents had followed us in and he went to see them off. He had a few words with them, I heard Crawford mentioned, then a slightly annoyed Hannibal respond. The door was shut not long after that. He called in that he was going to go put the groceries away and not to move.

I waited for him, shrugging out of my coat and laying it across the arm of the couch. I kicked off my shoe and sighed, settling back. I ran over what had happened in the car. Hannibal had said that he wanted to kiss me in public to entice the Butcher to make another appearance. I thought it would only be the one by the butcher shop, but he had continued in the car. The kiss in the car had been deep and thorough. It was something searching. It could have been his idea of making me focus on something other than my anxiety. It worked amazingly well, but was it really necessary? 

I heard his shoes on the foyer floor. His pace was fast, like he was impatient about something. I looked up as he entered the room and he didn’t slow at all. He strode up to me, swept down, and slanted his mouth across mine. One hand spanned my throat, his thumb along the front, running up and down. His fingers reached around to the back of my neck. His mouth was demanding, dominant. He swept his tongue through my mouth over and over. I gasped for air around his onslaught. I had no idea what to do with my hands because it was just so sudden that I had no time to mentally prepare. He took control before I knew I was going to be submitting. His grip tightened slightly around my throat and I moaned unconsciously. He growled for me, something deep and primal. He bit my lip, then kissed my chin.

He pulled away as fast as he’d swept in. He didn’t go far, only a few inches or so. I slowly opened my eyes and met his. His brown eyes were dark and something warred with him inside. His hand stayed at my throat, his grip was there, but it wasn’t tight. His mouth was open and he was breathing hard. I noticed that his other hand was on the arm of the couch, holding himself over me.

“You’ve been very naughty, Mattea,” he whispered. “You knew I wanted you in the car, then you licked my neck on the way in. You tempted the beast. Now the beast will have you.”

Then there was a ringing in my coat pocket. We both just stopped. We stopped breathing, we didn’t move, we just froze for a moment. Hannibal sighed and let go of my throat, then moved to grab my coat. He reached into the pocket and pulled it out. He went still, then, looking down at the screen. I looked up at him and frowned. His eyes looked down at me and his jaw ticked. He turned it around so I could see. “Blocked Number.” He slid to answer, pushing the button for speaker.

“Hello?” I said quietly.

“You kissed him,” the Butcher said on the other line. “You kissed that fraud. I saw you. You let him hold you and kiss you like you’re his. You’re not his, you’re mine!”

“She’s never been yours,” Hannibal said calmly. 

“I saw her first,” the Butcher returned. “I saw her before you. She was mine before you even laid eyes on her. She’s mine and I will have her.”

“You’ll never have her. She’s mine and she’ll never be with you. I’ll never let her go.”

“You won’t have any choice,” the Butcher growled. “I’ll take her from you and I’ll make you watch.”

Then the call ended. Hannibal just stared down at the phone. My breath was shaking and my heart was pounding. He’d seen us. Which time did he see? Or had he seen both? Did he know that Hannibal was kissing me, touching me just before he called? 

“Don’t worry, Mattea,” Hannibal said in a calm, soothing voice. “Our plan is working. He’s seen my claim on you and you accepting it. He’s angry now. He’ll be impulsive.”  
“Hannibal, what if we were wrong to goad him?”

“You need to trust me in this,” he said. “I know how the mind of a psychopath works. I know that he’s narcissistic and controlling. I know that he views his brides as his property. I’ve taken you away from him. He won’t stand for it. He’ll come back and I will end this threat to you. He’ll be rash and angry, but he’s predictable. I can anticipate him.”

I sighed and took my phone from him. I looked at the screen like I expected him to call back. Hannibal’s hand came up to pet my hair. It was meant to be soothing, I was sure of it, but I was still afraid. Had we really just baited a serial killer?

“I have to call Jack,” Hannibal sighed. “He’ll no doubt have heard about our behavior while we were out and the phone call. I’m sure he won’t be pleased.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal describes what he'll do to the Butcher. Will Mattea reject him?  
> NSFW Dominance/submission  
> Description of rape.

It was probably a half hour, maybe more before Crawford showed up. It was just him this time, with some agents posted at the door. He came through the door like a hurricane. He was angry and he was all about scolding us like children. Hannibal sat in the chair across from me after he let Crawford in.

“So you two make a public spectacle of yourselves and then proceed to make out in the back seat of our SUV,” Crawford started, “then you make another in front of your home and you thought this was a good idea?”

“We thought it would enrage the Butcher,” Hannibal calmly explained. “He claims her and doesn’t accept that she’s already claimed by me. I wanted to show him that not only do I have right to her, she accepts it. She welcomes it.”

“Well after listening to that call, I’d say you succeeded. How can you be so reckless with your behavior? You’re both reasonable adults.”

“She’s mine, Jack,” Hannibal answered. “She’s mine and he needs to recognize that. Once he does, he’ll be desperate and do something brash enough that you’ll catch him. He may come back here, or he may attack another woman as you and Will thought. He’s angry, Jack. He’s impulsive. He’ll slip up.” 

“So that’s why you made out like a couple of teenagers in the back seat of my SUV?” Crawford asked incredulously. 

“No, I kissed her to make sure she was alright,” Hannibal told him. “Her agoraphobia took her over while I was in the butcher shop. I couldn’t get her to focus on anything else, so I kissed her. In the car, I made sure I brought her out of it. I hadn’t realized that her anxiety disorder would overwhelm her quite so badly out of my presence. It was my fault and I was reassuring her that I was there with her.”

“By making out with her,” Crawford said in a deadpan voice. “You do have unorthodox methods, Doctor.”

“It’s not a technique I would use with anyone else,” Hannibal replied, raising his eyebrows. “Mattea isn’t a patient; she never has been. I don’t use typical treatment with her. I needed her to focus on something other than her terror so I kissed her.”

“Because she’s somehow yours, yes, I get it, Dr. Lecter.” Crawford wasn’t impressed. He was pacing back and forth in the doorway to the foyer. He would run his hand over his hair in an agitated way.

“Not somehow, Jack,” Hannibal corrected. His gaze came to me and I bristled from being talked about like I wasn’t there. “She’s in the room, Jack. I think discussing her like this may be upsetting her.”

“If you two prefer to talk about me like I’m not a conscious person instead of an inanimate object, I can go somewhere else,” I said flatly. “Otherwise, I’d prefer to be talked with rather than about.”

“I apologize, Miss Smith,” Crawford said calmly. First time he’d been calm since he walked in the door. “That was rude of me. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Hannibal and I thought that this would be a good way to draw the Butcher out,” I sighed. “We thought that if he could see that I was with someone else by choice, but that he has to threaten and manipulate me into going with him, that he’d be upset. We thought he could fall into a trap. We probably should have run the plan by you first, but there wasn’t much time after the decision was made before the agents arrived. We’ve chummed the waters. He’ll be drawn like a shark.”

“I can see the draw of it, but if he becomes too enraged, he’ll just come after you,” Crawford said. “You’re bait again.”

“I’d rather him come after me than go and kill another woman,” I returned. “I’m protected, another woman is like a sitting duck to him. She’ll never stand a chance.”

“We’ll increase security around the house, above and at ground level. There won’t be an entrance we don’t have eyes on.”

“Thank you for understanding, Jack,” Hannibal said. “I would like the threat to her neutralized as quickly as possible. Drawing him out is the best way to do it.”

“You should have gone over this with me first, Doctor,” Crawford said, eyeing him angrily. “I may have even gone with it. This was reckless.”

“I’m sorry, Jack, there just wasn’t time.” Hannibal was all smoothness. There was no trace of what we’d done before the Butcher had called in him. Our passion had deflated instantly when that phone rang. All the buildup, all the excitement was just gone. I wasn’t sure if we’d get it back and I wasn’t sure if I cared. The Butcher would be back and being hurt probably wasn’t going to stop him.

“Next time, tell me before you pull stunts like this,” Crawford said.

“Hopefully there won’t need to be a next time,” Hannibal replied, folding his hands in his lap. He just watched Crawford as he mulled over that possibility.

“I’ll leave you two for the night,” he said. “Don’t do anything irresponsible for the rest of the day, ok?”

“I think we can manage,” Hannibal said, standing to see Crawford out. They exchanged a few more words out in the foyer, but I was too irritated to listen. Hannibal came back in a few moments later. “Are you alright?”

“I feel like I just got scolded by my father,” I mumbled into my lap. “I’m thirty-two, not sixteen. I don’t need to be chided by a man I’ve know for less than a week. He has no right to lecture me about my sexuality.”

Hannibal came to stand beside me, no doubt looking down at me. I looked up at him, tilting my head to the side to see him. He was studying me carefully. He was placid, cool, and refined. Being scolded didn’t bother him. At least not from what I could see.

“You’re absolutely correct,” he said finally. “As long as we’re not indecent, there shouldn’t be any problem with a kiss in public. I know I didn’t mind, did you?”

I smiled softly up at him. “Of course, I didn’t mind, Hannibal. Kissing you is my favorite thing.”

“I hope it’s not the only thing you enjoy.”

“No, you have quite the arsenal,” I laughed. “You do things to me that no one else has ever done. You do things for me that no one has ever done. I’ve always been so alone, Hannibal. You’ve taken that loneliness away from me and given me something else entirely.”

He smiled for me. It was a nice smile. He leaned down and brushed his lips across mine. Just a quick movement, just a light caress, before he pulled away and stood again. I sighed and dropped my gaze to my hands in my lap.

“Are you ready for dinner?” he asked above me.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Have you ever had Thai food?” I frowned and shook my head, looking up at him. “It’s spicy. Do you enjoy spicy food?” I gave him a slight smile in answer. “Good, we’re having Thai chicken curry.”

“Do you ever cook anything other that poultry, Hannibal?” I asked with a laugh. He gave me a dark smile, his eyes glinting with something I couldn’t place.

“Often, just not for you yet,” he answered. He winked at me and I shook my head. “Are you up to going back into the kitchen or should I leave you here?”

“I can go, Hannibal,” I said softly. I felt a tick of anxiety crawling up my spine and I took a deep breath to try and chase it away.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Hannibal, I’m sure.”

He tilted his head and his eyes moved over me. “You’re lying,” he said simply. “I can see you getting anxious. You’re afraid of what will happen, what you’ll see. Will our Butcher make another grand entrance? No, Mattea, he won’t. At least not tonight.” He extended both of his hands and I reached up to take them. He pulled me up quickly and I fell against his body, but he didn’t even step back. He brought my hands behind my back, his hands reaching to pull me closer, if it was even possible. When I turned my head to the side, he let go of one of my hands and pulled my head back up. He made sure that my eyes were on his and he looked over my face. “You have nothing to fear in my home. He surprised me last time. I won’t be surprised again.”

“Hannibal, he’s angry now,” I started. He ran a finger over my lips to silence me.

“He’s impulsive, but I’m patient,” he said to me while he ran that finger across my cheek and along my jawline. “I’ve prepared for anything he could do. Plus, we have an early warning system. Jack’s men are all over this place. He won’t get far without someone noticing him. You have nothing to fear. I’m here and I’ll make sure you’re safe. Are you ready?” I nodded slowly.

He bent to wrap his arms tightly around my waist and lifted me off my feet. His eyes moved over my face, so close to his. I reached around his shoulders, one hand going up to run my fingers through his soft hair. I tilted my head to the side as his face moved closer to mine. He opened his mouth and I mimicked him. I could feel his hot breath on my face as he moved ever closer. His lips brushed mine teasingly. I could sense that he wanted to take my mouth with his, but he was vexing me. I wasn’t sure who he was teasing, but it was definitely a provocation. When I pulled him closer, he pulled away. His eyes moved over my face and mine locked onto his soft lips. I wanted them. 

“You teased me before,” he whispered. “You tempted me when I couldn’t do anything about it. I’m going to tease you tonight. I’m going to tempt you until you beg me. You’re going to writhe for me and beg me to have you. I’ll make you cry my name out until you can’t anymore. I’m going to torture you with pleasure and keep you on the edge. You don’t know what door you’ve opened, but you will.”

I was breathless. I was tingling from my toes to my head. Every nerve was alive with his promises. I knew they were promises and he always kept his promises. He leaned in slowly, just brought his lips within centimetres of mine. If I spoke, they would touch mine.

“By the end of tonight, you’ll know you’re mine,” he said just as he swooped in and captured my lips with his. He squeezed me tightly to him, pressed me against his chest. I clutched his hair in my hand, holding him around me. He fed from my mouth and poured his own engrossing lust into me until I was burning for him. I was liquid heat in his arms and I hooked my right leg around him. He gave me a moan, a growl, and swung me around. He sat me in one of the chairs and knelt between my legs, his mouth never leaving mine. His hands went from around my waist up to my face, holding me so he could devour me. I felt his fingers comb through my curls and he wound them around his hands. He clutched fists in my long, chocolate hair, but not to pull, not to hurt. He was always very careful about hurting me. I wanted to know how far that care went and licked his teeth. He moaned again and pushed me back against the chair’s back, crawling up to me. I gasped against his mouth and I felt his teeth set into my lower lip, only to have his tongue smooth over it a second later. 

He then left my lips, slowly kissing down my chin to my throat. His tongue licked my pulse point and when I gasped, he set his teeth into my neck. Again, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to know that he could hurt me. I shivered under him and I felt him smile while he kissed lower. When he reached my collar bone, he did the same light bite. He continued his trail down along the V of my neckline. He didn’t push the clothing away, just kissed around it. I was gasping and moaning above him and my hands clung to his hair. I arched my back up to meet his lips and he growled again.

Then suddenly, he wasn’t there anymore. He slipped out of my hands like soap and I gulped in air. He was standing between my legs, smoothing the front of his clothes down with one hand and fixing his hair with the other. My hands fell to my lap and I just sat there, mouth open, staring at him. He’d either moved very fast, or I was very distracted. I couldn’t figure out which.

Hannibal looked down at me and gave me a half smile, knowing that I was completely scrambled. “Are you ready for dinner, Mattea?” he asked smugly. I sat dumbly for a few more seconds before shaking my head to clear it a bit.

“Y-yes, Hannibal,” I said quietly. “I’m ready.”

He leaned down and took my somewhat shaky hands. He pulled me up to stand with him and I swayed on my feet. He steadied me by putting his hands around my waist.

“I can’t tell you how happy it makes me that you react so easily to me,” he whispered down at me. “Have you always been so responsive?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Hannibal,” I whispered back.

“How do you feel when I kiss you?” he asked, his arms looping around my waist.

“I feel like I’m being devoured,” I answered. “Like you’re taking in everything that’s me and giving me everything that’s you. It makes me dizzy and alive with sensations I’ve never felt before.”

“Then you’ve never been kissed before,” he said, moving so close that his warm breath played over my face. “You’ve never surrendered yourself to anyone before. I’ll make you feel things that you’ve never imagined. We have a very long time to explore one another. I’ll make you learn something new each time I touch you. I’ll be your teacher, your protector, your lover. I’ll help you discover new things about yourself and about me that no one else knows. I’ll see you and you’ll see me.”

“H-Hannibal,” I breathed out. He was so close to me and I couldn’t make sense of anything while he surrounded me. My breathing was fast and deep. My body shook. My hands were limp at my sides, only him holding me up. I felt one of his arms slide up my back until his hand came to the back of my head, his fingers running through my hair at my scalp.

“Mattea,” he whispered back before his lips met mine again. 

It wasn’t a demanding kiss. It wasn’t deep or intense, just his lips moving over mine. He whispered my name each time we broke apart, even for just a second. Then he started speaking a different language.

“Tu amzinai mano meile,” he whispered. “As niekada taves nepaleisiu.” His mouth found mine again, his tongue swept my mouth, deep and searching.

“Hannibal,” I gasped when he pulled back. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“It’s a promise,” he said. “That’s all you need to know.” Then he kissed me again, just lightly, before leaning his forehead against mine. His eyes were closed and I searched his face for any meaning behind his words. I knew I wouldn’t hate it, but I just didn’t know what to say or how to react. He’d promised me so many things. 

One thing I was certain of was that he wouldn’t hurt me. I had nothing to fear from him. I had given him something that he’d been waiting for, but I didn’t know what it was. I frowned and my hands came up to his face. I tilted him up so he opened his eyes and looked at me.

“Hannibal, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t need to be,” he said quickly. “You don’t need to be afraid anymore.”

“No, Hannibal, I’m afraid of me. I’m afraid of everything that I’m feeling. I’ve never felt like this before and I’m afraid of the pain it may cause.”

“No, Mattea,” he almost hissed. His hand gripped the back of my neck hard, keeping me still. “There’s nothing to fear. There will be no pain. I’m never going to lose you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because there is no other way,” he said simply. He looked in my eyes, as if daring me to say otherwise. I just looked back, bewildered. 

Suddenly, he swept me up in his arms, careful not to hurt my ankle as he did so. He carried me quickly and calmly through the foyer, the dining room, and into the kitchen. He placed me gently in the chair and brushed his lips over the top of my head as he pulled away. Once upright, he ran his hands down the front of his jacket, then opted to slip out of it, folding it carefully and put it over the arm of the chair. He gave his waistcoat a slight jerk to pull it down flat over his torso. He sent me a quick smile before turning to go behind his counter. 

I watched him tie his apron around his waist. He always held such careful command of himself and everything around him. He moved through his kitchen like he’d been doing it all of his life. 

“You’ve had curry before, haven’t you?” he asked as he diced up the chicken.

“No, my diet has mostly been poorly cooked fast food,” I said with a laugh. He looked up and smiled at me.

“You don’t cook?”

“I do a little, but only out of necessity. I’ve never liked food much.”

“Have you liked my food?” he asked as he worked. It was my turn to smile.

“Hannibal, if I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t eat it. I very much like your food. Probably too much.”

“There’s no such thing as loving food too much.”

“There’s an entire genre of TV shows that say that’s a lie,” I laughed. Hannibal did, too as he stirred in spices and ingredients. 

“Yes, but all good things come in moderation,” Hannibal told me. “Self-control is important in life. There are many people who don’t understand this concept.”

“Yes, and people love watching the drama of it all,” I said. 

“Do you watch these programs?” he asked me, his eyes coming up to mine.

“I’ve seen them,” I answered honestly, “I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never found them entertaining. I prefer more psychological programs, if I have to watch anything. Usually, I just listen to music or podcasts if I need something in the background while I work.”

His eyes went back to what he was doing after I saw his lips tick up. “Do you work that much?”

“Hannibal, the last few days have been utterly insane for me,” I laughed. He looked at me again, frowning. “I work all the time. The only day off I generally take is Sunday while I’m sick. Then I sleep. I take breaks to throw the ball around for Frank and sometimes, I make a meal for myself, or order delivery. You’d be surprised how many restaurants deliver around here.”

“But here you’ve been spending your nights in my bed instead of over a computer keyboard and your days have been shadowed by this Butcher of yours,” he mused as he somehow tossed the chicken curry in his pan over the flame of his stove. 

“I’m behind in work,” I said seriously. “Today was different. Neither one of us got much work done. I know that tomorrow, you’ll disappear into your office again and see your patients. I won’t see you until the evening. I’ll work in my room all day until you’re done.”

“You’ll work in my room,” he corrected. “I’ll be sure to bring everything over in the morning. You’re moving into my room completely and I’m not letting you go. It will be our room. Yours and mine. Our space. My home is open to you.”

I smiled and leaned back, crossing my ankles as best I could with the boot. “Our room?” He looked at me and winked. “I like the sound of that, Hannibal, thank you.”

He paused for a moment, looking at me and turning his head. “Still so polite. I’ve seen and touched every part of you and you still thank me for anything I give you. It doesn’t matter what it is, a gesture, a meal, even a kiss and you thank me. I love that about you.”

“Thank you, Hannibal,” I whispered, blushing. His eyes moved over me as he cooked and I sat. He took in my blush and how I nibbled my lip. He licked his and his jaw ticked. Heat flickered in his eyes and it wasn’t from the flames of his stove.

We said little else until the meal was finished. He first took the plates out and put them on the table before he came to collect me. He didn’t speak, he didn’t ask if I was ready, he just pulled me into his arms and held me close to his chest. I heard him inhale over my hair before he turned and took me into the dining room, putting me in my normal seat. 

He stood over me, looking down at me for a few moments. I thought he would lean down and kiss me. It was like for a moment, he warred with himself over that very subject. He took a deep breath and rolled his head slightly, before turning and going to his own seat.

“Please,” he said as he scooted in his chair under him, “eat. It’s hot, so be careful.”

“Thank you, Hannibal,” I murmured and took up my spoon. It was spicy, but manageable. It was different, but not in a bad way. I could taste the different spices that I saw him put in it. It was yellow, which was interesting. I thoroughly enjoyed the dish. 

“I know about what happened when you were a baby,” he started, “but you told me that there was so much more. Can you elaborate on that?”

“Oh, Hannibal, you won’t like it,” I said softly.

“I’m sure I won’t, but I know that there is more to how you’ve developed into such a polite and responsible woman.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I didn’t like talking about my history. It was my past and I didn’t like dredging it up. I looked up into his expecting eyes and bit my lip harder than normal.

“I can see this troubles you,” he said slowly. He put down his spoon and sat back in his chair. His hands went down to his lap and he turned his head slightly. “You need to let the darkness breathe or it will eat you alive. No one and nothing are eating you, Mattea, I won’t allow it.”

“It was after the abuse when I was small,” I started. “My mom couldn’t deal with his death and dove head first into a bottle of vodka. I was five and I knew how to mix a killer screwdriver. She abandoned me to her alcohol and left my sister and me to our own devices. My sister had our dad, but he didn’t think I was his, so I was ostracized there. I was left out of everything because I was light and she was dark. I was alone growing up. I had to take care of myself. If I was hungry, I cooked something. If I was dirty, I bathed myself. When I was sick, which was almost all the time, I took care of myself. I would have to ask my mother or my aunt to take me to the doctor for antibiotics, but other than that, I took care of myself.”

“That’s the first time you felt abandoned,” Hannibal observed.

“Yes, and it’s where my trust issues started,” I told him. “My family all abandoned me, they all thought I was tainted and dirty. My sister hated me because I had all the attention when I was in the hospital. She would often hold me down and wrap her fingers around my neck. She’d choke me until my vision went black. She did that many times.”

“You sister should have been there for you,” he said.

“My sister has always been selfish and self-centered. If it wasn’t about her, she didn’t care. My first birthday that I wasn’t sick, I was able to throw a party. I was seven or eight. My mother only invited my grandmother and my aunt and her son. My cousin upset my sister, I forget how or why. She stormed upstairs and threw a note down the stairs saying that if my cousin didn’t apologize to her immediately, she would throw herself out of the second story window. My birthday was no longer about me; it was about her.”

“Your sister doesn’t sound like a very pleasant person. Has she changed with age?”

“No,” I said almost sadly. “She signed away the rights to three of her five children because she wanted to marry her new boyfriend. She hasn’t spoken to them in so long that her second youngest child doesn’t even remember her. That’s probably for the best. His father married a lovely woman who took on the role of mother. My niece and two of my nephews are happy and well looked after. My oldest and youngest nephews I don’t know a lot about.”

“Has she kept them from you?” he asked after taking another bite.

“In her way, yes,” I answered. “She’s alienated me from her life, so therefore, I’ve been alienated from her sons’ lives.”

“That’s a shame,” Hannibal said. “You seem like a wonderful aunt.”

“Speaking of my niece and nephews, I need to call them tomorrow. I always call once a week to check up with them.”

“See?” he said with a smile. “A wonderful aunt.” He paused a moment, then said, “You’re still not telling me everything.”

I sighed and took a bite of the curry. I chewed slowly and though of how I would tell him the rest. After I was done, I just decided I’d be blunt about it.

“I was never protected as a child,” I said softly. “Even when my mother quit drinking when I was ten. She started her education and that was all she could see. My sister had my oldest nephew when I was twelve and she was sixteen. Then everything was about her. I was left by the wayside again.”

“Something happened, didn’t it?” He knew it had, but he was prompting me to answer the question.

“When I was fourteen,” I started slowly, “I had this History teacher. He was nice to me. He read one of my stories and bought me literature to broaden my mind. He encouraged me to write more. He let me come into his classroom at lunch and would encourage me to eat, but I rarely would. He got very close to me during my year with him. He became my friend. It was the first time an adult really took an interest in my life and it felt good.”

“But it didn’t last, did it.” He wasn’t questioning me. He was telling me that he was still there. He may only be listening, but he was still with me.

I took a deep, shaking breath and closed my eyes. The images of what happened danced behind my eyes. “On the last day of school, he called me to help him clean up after a rally. I was the only one with him. Everyone else had left for the day. He called me into the athletic office so I could use the phone and tell my mother I would be late because I was walking home. That’s what he said, anyway.

“He locked the door behind us. I can still hear it click. He came up behind me and shoved me against the desk. He bent me over it. He ground my face into the papers that were all over it. He held my face down and I felt him tearing at my pants. Once they were down, he took off his pants. He…”

I couldn’t go on, I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t tell him everything that happened to me. I opened my eyes and found him watching me with hard eyes. I felt a tear slip down my cheek. Just one.

“Predators target victims,” he explained. “They see when someone has been hurt before and go after them. This man was a predator. He knew you were tender hearted and that you just wanted someone to pay attention to you. He gave you that attention until you trusted him enough to take what he wanted. By force, apparently.”

“Hannibal, it was horrible,” I sobbed. I heard his chair scrape across the floor and heard him come around to my side. He pulled me into his arms, standing me up against him. “I remember every second of it. I remember how much it hurt and how scared I was. I was so shocked at what was happening, I just stood there. I didn’t scream, I didn’t fight back. Why didn’t I fight back?”

“Because you were a child and he was an adult,” Hannibal whispered over my head, one hand petting down my hair. “You were innocent. What he did was monstrous.” He ran his soothing hands over my back and through my hair. “What happened to this man?”

“I finally told one of my school counselors two years later. I was cutting badly and my English teacher saw the blood. I was so anxious all the time. I was afraid someone would know by looking at me. I felt dirty and damaged” I paused, drawing in a slow breath against his chest. My arms went around his waist and I held him to me. “He came to my high school one day. No reason, but he was watching me. I was so afraid, I thought he’d come back to hurt me again. Out of fear and desperation, I told my counselor. She told the principal and he called the police.”

“You were very brave,” he said.

“I didn’t want to go through with it,” I sighed. “I didn’t want to prosecute, but they told me that there were likely other girls that he’d hurt.”

“It was likely. He was a child predator.”

“That’s the only reason I went through with it. I didn’t want him to hurt anyone else.”

“You prosecuted him? You went to court?”

I nodded into his chest and felt his lips brush against my hair. “I was sixteen. I was on the stand for eight hours, telling every detail over and over. The trial took a week. The jury was only in session for two hours. It was a hung jury. Only one of them believed me. They didn’t believe me, Hannibal.”

He hushed me and comforted me, gently rocking me while he pet my hair. We were quite for a long time while my tears fell. He just held me and let me. I shook in his arms and he ran his hand up my back. I just clung to him, buried my face in his chest.

Once I quieted, he pulled away, bringing his finger up to trace my jaw to my chin, then tilted my head up to look at him. He didn’t look disappointed or upset. He was his calm self. He bent his head to kiss the tears on my cheeks away. I tipped my head back and he ran his kisses down my throat, then back up to take my mouth. His hand cupped my cheek and he just lightly kissed me. He didn’t demand anything from me, he just gave me comfort.

After a few moments, he pulled away and looked into my eyes. There was a threat there, but it wasn’t aimed at me. “Where is this man now?” he asked.

“He couldn’t teach in the city again,” I explained. “Everyone knew he was wrong, but no one believed how wrong he really was. He moved north to teach there.”

“He still teaches,” Hannibal said with a glimmer of seething rage in his eyes.

“Yes, he still teaches. I failed at protecting other girls. Maybe I gave him pause on doing it again to someone else, but only a brief one. He’s still hurting girls, I know it.”

“No,” Hannibal said, pulling me into his arms again. “You didn’t fail anything. The justice system failed you and every other little girl he hurts. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Hannibal, I tried so hard,” I sighed, emotionally exhausted in his arms.

“You would have succeeded if it weren’t for ignorance. That’s not your fault.”

I closed my eyes again and sighed. He pulled back and guided me to sit back down. He pushed in my chair under me, then went back to his place. We finished dinner without much else said. He gathered our plates and brought them into the kitchen. I heard them clatter into the sink, then heard his footsteps coming back to me. I looked up at him as he flicked off the light in the kitchen and paused in the doorway.

“You know you can always tell me to stop, you can always say no to me,” he said carefully.

“I know, Hannibal,” I said softly. “I know you’ll never hurt me like that. I know I have nothing to fear from you.”

He nodded and his jaw ticked while he took a deep breath. Then his head came up and he looked at me directly in the eyes. I saw a surge of protectiveness go through him. I knew that as long as I was with him, I had nothing to fear from anyone.

He came to me then. He scooped me up into his arms and stood for a moment, just holding me. He nuzzled his cheek against my hair when I laid my head against his shoulder. My arm went around his back along his shoulder blades and I clenched my hand on his waistcoat, not wanting to let him go. He gave a deep sigh before he started moving us up to the bedroom, flicking off lights as we went.

Once he had me in the bedroom, he put me on the bed and turned on the light on the nightstand. He ran the backs of his fingers over my cheek and down my throat.

“I want to show you how gentle it can be,” he almost whispered.

“Hannibal, you’ve been so gentle with me in the past few days.”

“But I wasn’t this morning.”

“No, but you were passionate,” I said with a soft smile.

“You didn’t mind?” he asked with a frown.

“No, Hannibal, I didn’t mind at all.”

“You’ll tell me when you do.”

“If I do, Hannibal. You haven’t done anything to scare me or hurt me in any way. Why would that change?” I just looked up at him with the same soft smile. I expected nothing from him that he wasn’t willing to give me and he did the same. It was a mutual respect that I’d never had before. It made me feel cherished.

“Hannibal, I care for you a great deal,” I whispered to him.

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me into him. “As tave myliu,” he said softly.

“What does that mean, Hannibal?” I asked against his waist.

“I’ll show you what it means,” he said in a decisive tone. He pulled me back and guided me to lay down on the bed. He had me shift so I was in the center, no room for falling off. As I moved, he reached to unbutton his waistcoat. He slowly walked down to the fireplace. He took off his waistcoat and laid it across the bench at the foot of the bed, then turned to start a fire.

When he stood, he started unbuttoning his light blue shirt. Nothing was quick, nothing was rushed. He took his time. When I reached to pull at my dress, he stopped me with one word. He would take care of it. He would take care of me. Meanwhile, I enjoyed the slow display of skin as he undressed.

It was his shirt first. He unbuttoned the front slowly, then his cuffs. He pulled it off his shoulders and I watched the muscles in his arms work under his skin. His chest flexed a bit and it ran down his stomach to where is slacks began. He let me watch him, let my eyes move over him. I licked my lips and let out a shaky breath. He saw the light motion and answered it with the lick of his own lips. Heat licked in his golden eyes, darkening them. The flicker of firelight played over his skin, making it gleam.

“Turn off the light, Mattea,” he directed gently. I waited a moment before I rolled and clicked it off. The only light was from the fireplace and it cast long shadows over the room.   
I let out a shuddering breath as I watched him crawl onto the bed after kicking off his shoes. He left his slacks on, only his upper body was exposed. I watched the muscles in his back and arms work, gliding under the skin. He crawled up my body and slid his between my legs. He didn’t stop until he rested his weight on his elbows at my shoulders. His lower body pressed against the line of mine and I had to resist the urge to rock my hips on him. 

I ran my hands over the hills and valleys of his arms and back. His skin was so smooth under my fingers, like satin. My mouth was already slightly open, waiting for his tongue to push past them, but he only brushed his open mouth against mine. It was a tease of a kiss. He would brush his lips over mine, then pull away to watch my face. I kept my eyes open, watching the silhouette of his face and body moving slightly over me. He was so beautiful. 

His hands brushed my hair away from my face, fingers tracing the outline of my lips. He continued to come and go for a few minutes until my breath came in gasps and sighs. Then he took my mouth gently. His tongue explored me, running over my teeth and rubbing against my tongue. I felt his hips push in just below me, grinding himself against the curve just under mine. He was too tall to grind against me and kiss me at the same time.

I moaned for him as he kissed me and his hands framed my face. My hands clutched at his shoulders, holding him to me. His shoulders were too wide for me to reach up and run my fingers through his hair, but I really wanted to. I arched against him and he pulled back, eyes searching my face.

“I made you a promise downstairs,” he said in a low voice. “I always keep my promises. I’m going to tease you tonight, the way you teased me. I’m going to make you beg for me to be within you. I won’t hurt you, but I will tease you.”

“Hannibal,” I started before he slanted his mouth over mine. This time the kiss was searing, demanding my obedience. His hands clenched my hair next to my face, not pulling but was almost threatening to. I moaned into that threat and arched up again along his front. My hands turned to claws and I traced the muscles in his back with my nails.

Then he began to move, his lips kissing my chin, then down the front of my throat. He leaned over to run his nose and lips over the side of my neck, breathing me in and making me shiver. He grazed my skin with his teeth and my closed eyes shot open, gasping at the light touch. I heard him growl as I writhed beneath him. He moved further down, kissing over my collar bones starting over my left to my right. He let my arms come up over his shoulders and my hands clutched him to my chest. His mouth traced the neckline of my dress all the way down only stopping just above my breasts.

“Hannibal,” I panted, running my hands from his hair over his rippling shoulders.

“Not yet, Mattea,” he whispered over my skin. “I’ve only just begun. Writhe for me. Move for me. Moan for me.” He put his hands on either side of my body, pushing himself up. He brought his knees up, tucking them under my legs and making them bend over him. He knelt there, between my legs and pushed himself up fully. The shadows of the flames licked along his body, giving him a moving outline. I raised my hands up beside my head and rocked my hips. I saw him smile down at me.

He leaned down again, one hand balancing himself on the bed, the other going to my side where the dress was tied around my body. I felt his fingers pull at the tie, loosening my dress around my waist. When the knot was untied, he slowly drew the dress over my body, exposing my left side. He gently laid the side of the dress over the bed next to me, then he pushed himself back up on his knees. His hand ran up my left leg from knee to hip, gripping me, massaging my skin as his hand moved. It moved up to my waist, where the other tie was. His fingers first slipped under the cloth of the dress that only half covered me, running his fingers along the edge. I gasped and arched for him and he leaned himself over to kiss where my left breast mounded under the bra. My hands went to his hair and I clutched him as he kissed along the line of the cup. He lightly grazed his teeth against my skin as his hand came up to squeeze me through the bra.

“Hannibal,” I sighed, rocking my hips against his stomach while he leaned over me. He pulled back and I felt his hot breath against my skin. My hands ran down over his shoulders again. I clung to him while his lips kissed further down, rimming the seam of my dress. He kissed all the way down to the tie at my waist, leaving little nibbles and licks over my skin. I rocked my hips and arched my back over and over while feeling his lips, his teeth, and his tongue sear over me.

His fingers finally tugged the knot out of the tie at my waist and he leaned on his other arm so his hand could lay flat on me and slowly push the fabric away. He revealed my other half, and his hand went down to my knee, then he raked his nails lightly from knee, over my panties, and up to my ribs. I gasped and reached for him. He pulled himself back up to kneel there, out of my reach.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. Both of his hands came to the outside of my things and gripped them tightly. “You’re so beautiful, Mattea. Mano grazi meile. All mine. Now and for always.”

“Yes, Hannibal,” I panted out. I moved slowly under his gaze. “All yours.”

He almost lunged forward to put his hands on either side of my head, holding him above me. My legs lifted a bit to clutch him at his hips, his legs still tucked under mine. My right leg moved up to wrap around his side. His hand came back to my right thigh, his fingers splayed and he ran his touch along my skin as I tightened my leg around him. His hand by my head shook with the weight of him as he slowly leaned down and nuzzled my head to the side with his forehead. I turned and he started kissing my jawline from just below my ear to my chin, then over the other side. My hands were in his hair again, running my fingers through his straight, smooth locks. I gasped and sighed for him as he kissed me. I did exactly what he asked and never stopped moving under him.

He took my mouth with his and he was all lips, tongue, and teeth. He bit at my lips, then smoothed them with his tongue. He dove into my mouth, swept as deep as he could, claiming me. I moaned into his mouth and gasped for air between kisses. 

I felt his hand reach up and grabbed my left at the wrist, drawing it up to kiss my wrist and slowly down over the inside of my arm until it met my shoulder, then up my neck again to my mouth. He pressed my hand against the pillow by my head. He shifted his weight and did the same to my right. Once my hands were up, he whispered a command to keep them there. I bit my lip and clenched them, trying to keep them from sliding up his arms again.

His hand splayed over my ribs on my right side, running his fingers along every indent, every plane of my skin. Then he reached back, making me arch my back while he reached under me. I felt his fingers go to the clasp of my bra. His skilled fingers only had to snap and it was undone. His fingers reached under the bottom seam and he ran them all along until he reached my right breast. Then he lifted it, spilling me out of the cup and open to his eyes.

“Taip grazu,” he whispered over my breast just before he closed his mouth over my nipple. He sucked hard and nibbled it into a stiff peak, leaving it swollen and sensitive as he pulled back. His fingers ran over to do the same with my left breast. “Viskas mano.”

“Hannibal,” I gasped. “I don’t know what you’re saying, I don’t understand.” My eyes were closed against the pleasure of it all and I frowned.

“You don’t need to know, mano meile,” he whispered against my skin. “All you need to know is that you are mine in every way. That I will never let you go.”

His legs shifted under my thighs and he pressed himself up with both hands under my arms. He looked up the line of me. I could only see the firelight over his skin and glittering in his eyes. He looked hard and demanding. He began to crawl down my body, kissing a line down the center of me. I couldn’t take it and brought my hands down to clutch at his head. He moved quickly, both hands grabbing my arms and thrusting himself up my body to lay on me. He pulled my hands above my head and joined them together, holding them with just one of his while his lips went above mine.

“I’ll tie you down if I have to, Mattea,” he whispered into my mouth. “Don’t move your hands from this spot. It’s my turn to touch. Not yours. Do you understand?” I couldn’t speak so I just nodded. “Don’t move.”

He moved down again to kiss just below my navel. He went over to my right hip and nipped there while his fingers hooked into claws, pulling my panties down. He leaned up and knelt while both hands pulled at my panties. I lifted my hips with my right foot holding my weight while he pulled then down my thighs.

“Bend your leg, Mattea,” Hannibal ordered. “Only your right. Let me pull these off you as best I can with your boot on.” I bent both my legs at the knee, lifting them to join in front of him. Then he kissed my right calf as he pulled my panties off my leg. He ran his hand over my right leg, bringing my foot to his shoulder and trailing kisses from the arch of my foot slowly upwards. He licked my calf and kissed my knee while his hand moved on the outside of my leg from foot to hip. His other hand was on my left leg, kneading my thigh.

“Hannibal,” I sighed.

“Hush, Mattea,” he said as he shifted his legs back, kissing down the inside of my right thigh. “Not yet. I’m not ready to take you just yet. I’m going to kiss your lips, taste them both. I’m going to drive you crazy with desire, but you can’t touch me. I won’t allow it. You have no control here.”

He shifted down, laying on his stomach between my legs, bending my knees over his shoulders. I felt his hot breath against the core of me and I writhed for him. I knew it was coming, but the moment his tongue touched me, I jumped and moaned. I arched my hips up to meet his mouth, gasping and groaning above him. He took me with long sweeps of his tongue from back to front. I clenched my hands, digging my nails into the palms of my hands so I didn’t reach down and hold him to me. I felt his hands go to my hips, holding me still while he explored me. I felt the tip of his tongue enter me, then lick up to the nerve bundle at the tip of me.

“Hannibal!” I cried out. He growled over me and deepened his exploration, entering and leaving me like I was sure his hips would later. He lifted my hips up to his mouth and kissed me there like he would kiss my mouth. He nibbled my lips and licked them, raking his tongue over my overly stimulated skin. He gave me an onslaught of sensation, never stopping, never slowing. I felt myself clenching together, like a dam filling quickly.

“Hannibal, I’m close!” I gasped as I dug my nails harder into my palms. He just growled in answer as he savagely went after my most sensitive part. His nails dug into the skin of my hips as he held me open and willing to him. He never stopped, never eased off. His tongue, his teeth moved over my slick folds and I gasped as the dam began to break open. I screamed for him as I came apart, breaking like a dish on the floor. My thighs squeezed his head and my hands reached out for him. I pushed him away from where I was so delicate and soft.

He shot up over my body, his hands grabbing my wrists again. He held them at the level of my head on the pillows and slanted his mouth over mine. I could taste my pleasure on his lips, in his mouth. I felt his hips grind above me. He growled into my mouth and held my hands still on the pillow.

He pulled away as suddenly as he came to me. I gasped when he put pressure on my wrists. My eyes flew open and I looked up at his wild face.

“I told you that you don’t get to touch,” he almost growled above me. “I told you not to move your hands.” 

“Hannibal, they hurt,” I gasped as I finally had sensation return to my body. My palms stung and burned and my fingers curled lightly over them. He loosened his grip on my right hand and leaned on his right side while he brought it up to his face. He opened my hand so he could look at my palm, fingers lightly running along it.

“You’ve hurt yourself,” he said almost distantly. “You’ve cut yourself with your nails. You’re bleeding.” He bent his head and kissed my palms and I saw my blood over his lips. He licked his lips slowly, collecting the blood into himself. “The bleeding will stop. No more nails into your skin, Mattea.” 

“Hannibal, please,” I sighed. He leaned back over me, taking my lips, silencing my pleas. He kissed me deeply, wildly. I could taste my blood, coppery and rich, on his tongue. When I gently rubbed mine along his, he rewarded me with another growl before he shoved himself off of me.

He crawled off the bed and stood beside it. I lay completely exposed, both hands beside my head. His heated gaze burned over me while I rocked my hips and arched my back. I watched his hands clench at his sides, his muscles ticking up his arms and across his chest.

His hands moved then, going to his belt. He slowly pulled it open and jerked it out of the loops of his slacks. He dropped it beside the bed. Then those fingers went to the button at the top of those slacks, pulling it open, then sliding the zipper down. His fingers hooked in the waistband and he took not only his slacks, but his briefs down to the floor. He straightened up and stepped out of them. I watched him jut from his hips, bobbing with his movement and I licked my lips. I heard him take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Then he crawled back onto the bed. He moved slowly, slipping between my legs. He crept up my body slowly, planting soft kisses every so often. When his hips were just below mine and his face over me, he leaned in to gently take my mouth with his lips. It was soft, sensual. I had to fight to keep my hands still. His left hand went to my right leg and slid it up to the middle of his back, letting me curl it around him. His fingers splayed out and ran up and down my skin and his mouth moved over mine. He put all of his upper body weight onto his right arm, his hand reaching under my shoulders. I writhed under him and he broke the kiss, hissing over me.

He shifted his weight up, moving to tickle his chest hair over my face. His left hand reached down around my thigh to guide himself up against my entrance. I gasped and rocked my hips up, encouraging him. He didn’t need it as he pushed himself deep in one thrust. His hips met mine and I gasped and cried out at the invasion. He groaned above me, head thrown back and eyes closed. His hand kept my thigh around his waist and he bent his right leg under my left, bending it at the knee, the weight of the boot hooking my leg around his.

His fingers glided up my right side from knee over my hips, then over the side of my ribs, over the bra and my arm, still covered by the sleeve of the dress. His hand clasped around my wrist, bringing it over to my left, then held them both above my head. His right arm came up from my shoulder to the back of my head and he withdrew from me enough that he could lean down and kiss me again.

“I love being inside you,” he murmured above my lips. “So tight, so hot. You feel so good to me, mano meile. I can’t get enough of you.”

“Hannibal,” I gasped against his mouth. He took it again, giving me a slow sweep of his tongue before he pulled away and pushed himself into me again. His weight was pressed against his right elbow under me and his left hand holding mine tight against the pillows.

He moved above me, against me. I kept my right leg wrapped around him tightly, causing my hips to rock up when he withdrew each time. I kissed his chest, his hair tickling over my lips and nose. He moved slowly but firmly. He just kept pushing and pulling himself inside me. I gasped and moaned for him and he groaned and growled above me. Every so often, he’d pull down to kiss me and taste me. My skin became slick with sweat and I felt his grip slip on my wrists. I felt his sweat drip down onto me. The heat from the fire combined with the heat of his body above me had me gasping and panting under him.

“Mattea, mano meile,” he groaned above me. “Do it again for me, do it again.”

I sighed under him and I let myself get completely taken over by the sensation of him. I could feel every ripple of him as he glided in and out of me. I panted and moaned as I surrendered to the pleasure of him. I let that tightening feeling come back. I knew what he wanted and I was so willing to give it to him. I curled my leg around him tightly, pulling him in deeper and he gave me a guttural moan, throwing his head back again.

“Hannibal, it’s happening,” I gasped out.

He growled over me and moved his hips deeper, harder. We slid against each other with sweat slicking our skin as we moved. I rolled my hips and pushed up to meet him and he moaned and groaned above me. The room echoed with my scream as I came apart under him, quickly followed by his grunt over me, his back bowing and holding him deep inside me. I felt him twitching while I twitched. It only added to the pleasure of it all. His hand was tight around my wrists and his other hand clenched and slightly pulled my hair at the back of my head. It only caused me to arch up into his hips that much more and he groaned above me.

Finally, his body relaxed above mine. His grip lessened around my wrists, then fell away, releasing me. I was bloody, so I didn’t touch him, but I brought my arms down around his shoulders. He slipped from me as he climbed down my body to rest his head above my heart, listening to it pound. I held his head gently to me, my closed hands running over his wet hair. He breathed hard against me and wrapped his arms around my waist, under and around me. He just lay there, holding me to him while he lay his head above my bra that was still on. I felt the sweat of his brow seeping into my lacy bra as he nuzzled against it.

“Hannibal,” I whispered to him in the firelight. He raised his head and looked up the line of my body, resting his chin on the lace of the bra.

“I could do that to you forever and never tire of it,” he said softly. I smiled down at him and traced his cheekbone with my knuckle. He must have smelled the blood on my hand because he frowned and pulled one arm out from under me. He captured my wrist before it could fall away. “Open your hand, Mattea,” he ordered. I slowly pulled my hand open and he saw the half-moon cuts that my nails had made. Four perfect curves deep in my palm.

“It only hurts a little,” I said with a deep sigh.

“We need to clean them,” he replied. “Nails can carry a lot of bacteria. I don’t want them getting infected, especially with your compromised immune system.”

“Can’t we just hold each other for a while longer?”

He grinned up at me. “I’ll hold you all night,” he said. “But first, we need to clean up your hands.” He pulled himself up and off of me, crawling to the edge of the bed. I enjoyed the view as he walked into the bathroom. I heard him rummaging around in there, probably getting bandages or something that he would insist on me wearing. I was surprised when he came out with a few cotton swabs and a small bowl. No idea where the bowl came from.

“Why do you keep a bowl in the bathroom, Hannibal?” I asked with a slight frown.

“It’s part of my first aid kit,” he explained. “Sometimes you have to soak a wound in alcohol to clean it properly, which is exactly what we need to do here. Come to the edge of the bed as best you can. I’ll clean you up here.”

I struggled to sit up, feeling tied down by my half-removed clothes. I sighed and pulled one sleeve down my arm, followed by the other arm. The dress fell behind me and I slipped the bra off my shoulders. I could feel something wet slip from beneath me.

“Hannibal, I’m making a mess,” I said with a frown.

“It’s getting on your dress,” he said simply. “It will wash out. I promise.” He kissed the top of my head as I slid as delicately as possible to the edge of the bed. He sat and put the bowl on the nightstand. He poured some of the rubbing alcohol into the bowl and wetted down the cotton swabs. “Come here and put your hand in the alcohol. It will sting.”

“Pain is relative, Hannibal. I’m sure you know this all too well.”

He smiled at me. “I do, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t think you ever would on purpose, Hannibal.” He smiled again and kissed my salty brow. 

I slipped my hand down into the cold rubbing alcohol and it did sting, but it wasn’t too bad. I’d felt worse. He used the cotton swabs to wash away the dried blood that covered my palm. He smoothed the soft swab over the half-mooned cuts. He was gentle, but thorough. Once he was done with one, he put the bowl on his lap, the light pink fluid rippling lightly. He had me put my other hand into the bowl and followed the same ritual. Once I was clean, he stood again and went back into the bathroom.

I struggled slightly to slide my panties back up my right leg, then over my hips. I pulled my dress out from under me and put it and my bra on the floor beside the bed. The blanket I’d used the night before was down along the bottom of the bed. I leaned down and pulled it over my body as he came back out of the bathroom.

“It’s a shame to see you covered,” he said from the bathroom doorway. “You’re such a beauty. My beauty.”

I smiled as I settled back against the pillows. I watched him draw closer, his head turning to the side as he looked over me. His hands came up to rub together for a moment, almost like a child rubbing their hands together when they see their prize.

“You’ve made it clear, Hannibal,” I said as he climbed onto the bed, pushing the blanket over until he could slide up beside me. Then he tucked it around his body while one arm went around my shoulders and he tucked me in under it. I lay my head against his chest and listened to the gentle rhythm of his heart.

“I will continue to make it clear,” his voice rumbled in his chest. “Everyday, every night, every moment. You’re my grozis and I’m never letting you go.”

“What language are you speaking, Hannibal?”

“My native language. Lithuanian. I know several others, but I though this was the right one to describe you.”

“What other languages do you know?”

“I could call you beautiful in French,” he said as he wrapped his arms around me and held me close. “Mon amour, ma beaute, la mienne. Maybe Dutch, mijn geliefde. What about Italian? Il mio prezioso.”

“I still don’t understand what you’re saying, though I did recognize one of the French words,” I said timidly.

“Which was that?”

“’Amour’.”

“What does it mean, Mattea? Say it out loud.”

“Love,” I whispered.

“Yes, love,” he said simply, his fingers moving over the skin of my arm across his waist.

“Do you love me, Hannibal?”

“Do you love me?”

I thought for a moment, taking a deep breath. I’d never felt this way before. I’d described it many times, but I’d never known how it felt myself. “Yes, Hannibal,” I whispered into the blanket that covered us. I felt him brush his lips over my head.

“And I you,” he sighed out. “Love makes us vulnerable. Letting someone inside your heart enough to love them opens them up to all that you are. It can be frightening. Are you frightened?”

I thought about that, too. Was I afraid of loving him? No, but I was afraid of something. “I’m afraid, but not of you. I’ve been hurt so many times, Hannibal. I’ve tried to love people in the past and they used it against me. Will you use it against me, Hannibal?”

“No, Mattea,” he said slowly. “Will you use it against me?”

“No,” I answered. “I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“Nor I you. You are brangiausias to me. Most precious.” 

I looked up at him and saw him looking up to the ceiling. His fingers still played over my arm and through my hair. I loved his touch on me. He’d been dominant, demanding all day, but he only demanded what he knew I was willing to give. He didn’t hurt me; he didn’t violate any boundaries. He just took me with a seething passion. After a moment, he looked down at me and smiled.

“Hannibal, how many times have you told me you love me without me knowing it?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his eyes going back up to the ceiling. “I started early, once I knew. I just didn’t tell you what it meant.”

“Why not?” I asked as I reached up and traced his jaw with a finger.

“I didn’t want to push you into anything.”

“You told Crawford that this was more than an affair,” I observed. I laid my head against his chest again. “I guess that should have been a first clue.”

Hannibal gave me a light chuckle. “The first clue would be when I called you mine the first time. I claimed you forever when I said that. I love you so you’re mine.”

“Thank you, Hannibal,” I whispered softly.

He pulled me close and kissed my head again. I could feel his strength in his arms as he held me. It comforted me. “You’re very welcome, Mattea. You should take your meds. It’s time to sleep.” He released me and I turned to pour each dose into my hand. I took a drink from the glass of water on the nightstand. When I was finished, he pulled me back in and tucked me under his arm again. I nuzzled into him, curling around him.

“It’s time to sleep, mano meile,” he whispered above me. “Close your eyes. You’re safe, loved, and protected. I’m with you and I’m never leaving.” I nodded into his chest, slipping my arm beneath the blanket. He pulled it up and tucked it in around us. I sighed, closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, NSFW. Mattea struggles for her independence. Hannibal assures her that he's there to help, not hurt. Mattea contacts family.

My dreams were strange. Not the normal nightmares. It wasn’t a man standing in the TV light. It was Hannibal on the ground with the Butcher coming up behind him to kill him. I watched in horror as he grabbed Hannibal’s hair and pulled him up into a kneeling position, jerking his head back to expose his throat. I saw the Butcher reach over and slice, quick and clean, across his throat and I watched the blood spurt from the gaping wound.

I screamed, sitting up in bed as the alarm went off. I was covered in sweat; my hair was sticking to my face. Within seconds, Hannibal’s hands were around my face as he pulled me back. 

“What is it, Mattea?” he asked with a frown. “What’s frightened you?” He swept his hand to push my hair away from my face. He searched my eyes and my hands came up around his arms. I was breathing hard and my throat hurt from screaming. I clawed at him, trying to bring him closer. He got the idea and pulled me to his chest, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and head. He hugged me and waited for me to stop shaking.

“He almost killed you, Hannibal,” I said when I finally quieted. “I saw him slit your throat and I saw you bleed out. There was so much blood. I saw you fade. I saw you leave me.”

“No, Mattea, never,” he soothed. He laid me back down, putting my head on my sweaty pillow, one arm hooked around my neck, resting his weight on the elbow. The other one came up to sweep my hair away and trace the features of my face. “I’m never leaving you just like I’m never letting you go.”

He kissed me then, softly brushing his lips over mine. He didn’t expect me to open up to him, just kissed me while his thumb feathered over my cheekbone. He pulled back and looked me in the eye. 

“What happens when he comes again?” I asked softly.

“Then I kill him,” he answered simply. “I’ll kill him slowly for hurting you and I’ll make him see that he never had claim to you. He’ll die at my hand and you’ll never have anything to worry about again.”

“He’s meaningless to you,” I observed. “Nothing but a pest to be swatted at and killed.”

“It’s true,” he said as his eyes moved over my face. “He means nothing to me except that he’s hurt and frightened you. For that, he will die. Does that bother you, Mattea?”

I shook my head slowly, watching his eyes move. “No, Hannibal, that doesn’t bother me.”

“Does it frighten you?”

“No, but he does. He almost had you once.”

“And you stopped him,” he added. “You protected me when I was vulnerable. How far would you have gone to stop him?”

“As far as I can go,” I whispered.

“You’d kill him for me just as I’ll kill him for you.” I nodded under his gaze while his fingertips traced over my skin. “I’ll take care of this threat for you. You don’t have to do anything.”

“What happens if he gets you down again?” I asked softly, frowning.

“Then you’ll stop him again,” he answered. “Then you’ll kill him for me, or at least hurt him so I can get back up and get to him.”

“I can’t lose you,” I whispered.

“Nor will you,” he promised and leaned in to gently kiss my lips. “I’m here to stay, just like you are.” He whispered it over my lips. He whispered his promises over me like a lover’s hand over skin. He bathed me in his promises, meaning every one of them.

“We need to work today, Hannibal,” I said with a sigh. “When does your first patient get here?”

He sighed heavily and rolled to look at the clock. It was seven-thirty. “In about two hours,” he answered, turning back to me. “I want to wash you.”

“You’ve washed me so many times, Hannibal.”

“And each time I learn another way to make you sigh.”

“We need to make it quick if we’re going to have breakfast,” I reminded him.

“I’m never going to be quick with you,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “I’m always going to take my time and savor you. You’re worthy of that.”

“Take me to the shower, Hannibal,” I said with a soft smile. “Let’s get cleaned up and ready for the day.”

He sat up and threw the blanket away from us. He gently reached over and pulled my left leg close to him. He pulled the straps off and deflated the air pockets, releasing my leg from it. He lifted my foot to rest on his thigh. I watched him in all his naked glory as he worked to remove the wrap. Once it was gone, he looked up the line of me. Heat licked in his eyes as his fingers hooked in the waistband of my panties. Slowly, he drew them down and off my legs. His hands ran up to my thighs again and his fingers dug in.

“Hannibal,” I said after a deep breath. He couldn’t possibly want me again after just having me so thoroughly last night. There was just no way.

He crawled up between my legs and rested the weight of his upper body on his elbows beside my shoulders. His hands came up to frame my face and his mouth brushed over mine. I felt him laying between my legs, which both unconsciously came up and around him, my right foot hooking under my left calf and trapping him to me. My hands came up under his arms and along his back, my fingers finding his spine. He continued to brush soft kisses over my lips. He didn’t push past my lips, just grazed them. 

“This isn’t the shower,” I laughed lightly between kisses.

“You’re right, but this is so much better.”

When he came back to my mouth, I lifted my head to his, pulling my face from his grasp. I deepened the kiss and I felt his hands reach behind me and fist my hair. I kissed him thoroughly and he let my tongue push past his lips and coax his into my mouth. He gave me a soft moan and then he returned the passion, pushing me back onto the pillow. He shifted his body so I could feel him, firm and ready, beneath me.

“Hannibal,” I gasped out. “We have a day to prepare for.”

“I have a day to prepare for,” he corrected. “You’re staying here for the day. I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

He pushed up on his hands and plunged into me. I gasped and grasped his sides, my eyes rolling closed. It always took my breath away with how completely he filled me. My hands went down his sides to his hips, then over to grab him and pull him deep inside me. I shivered under him as I felt him flex above me. He was in me, around me, above me. He was everywhere all at once. He moved back and dragged himself out to the tip, then thrust back in. I felt his weight shift and he pulled himself down again to capture my gasping lips. I frowned a bit, feeling him slip from me, but welcomed his kiss.

He shifted his weight again, leaning heavily on his right elbow so he could run his hand along my leg while he kissed me. He guided my legs up high around his back and reached to put himself back at my entrance. When he pushed in again, he kept his hand on my thigh around him. It made him go deeper. He put his arm down to put his elbows at my shoulders. He used his legs and his arms to move over me. Ever gentle, ever deep. He made love to me slowly, as if he savored the sensation of my body around his. He moaned and grunted lightly as I gasped and sighed under him.

“Hannibal,” I whispered beneath him. He arched his back to only pull out a little while he took my mouth with his. It was like he was kissing and licking his name out of my mouth, coaxing moans and encouraging cries. He knew it was coming. He knew I would be breaking apart under him and quickly. He roused my passion, my pleasure, and drew it from me into his own body.

“Yes, mano meile,” he whispered while his head rested against mine for a moment. “Don’t hold back.” He pulled up and thrust deep inside me and I cried out. His movements became more direct, more insistent on drawing my pleas out of me. He put his weight on his left elbow, his right arm coming up to put a hand next to my head on the pillow. He used his legs and his arms to move deep in me.

“Look at me, mano mylimasis,” he grunted out. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

I opened my eyes wide as he thrust deep again. My mouth opened as I let out cries and gasps and moans from what wickedness he was doing to me. I saw his eyes on mine, dark golden brown, heated, filled with passion. I felt him throb in me when our eyes locked and I raked my nails down his sides. He grunted for me and moved faster.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he said. “Keep looking at me. I want to see you burst in your eyes.”

“Hannibal,” I panted and I rolled my hips under him.

“Yes, mano meile, do it for me.” He moved faster, pushing and pulling himself within me. My hands were claws, holding him over me. I felt myself well up, felt the passion breaking over the walls of that dam inside me. I bit my lip hard before I screamed out his name and came apart under him, my eyes never leaving his. He watched the climax happen, felt it around him and that tipped him over the edge to spill inside me. He fell over me, like his arm buckled under the pleasure of it. He continued to thrust while I clutched at him. I was so sensitive and he twitched above and within me.

Finally, he went still above me. His arms were wrapped around my shoulders and he gathered me up against his heaving chest as he panted for air. My hands clung to his hips, still claws. I held him inside me and sighed beneath him.

“Are you alright, Mattea?” he asked as he released his severe hold on my shoulders. I felt him move to pull out, his face coming down to mine.

“Why do you ask me that, Hannibal?” I sighed softly while he rested his forehead against mine, his breath playing over my face.

“I don’t ever want to hurt you,” he explained as he shifted his weight to bring his hand down to my face. “You’re so delicate and fragile.”

“I’m not fine china, Hannibal,” I said with a smile.

“Yes, you are,” he replied, kissing the tip of my nose. “You’re brangiausias. Most precious. I don’t want to break you.”

“I don’t think you ever could, Hannibal,” I said softly. He kissed me with a soft smile and rolled me onto my right side to slip from between my legs. He continued to roll and stood up along the side of the bed, directed to the bathroom. I heard the water come on in the sink and frowned. He’d need a shower, not a sponge bath. He emerged a second later with a wet washrag. He knelt on the bed beside me. He lightly cleaned up our mess, the fabric scraping over sensitive skin.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said while he cleaned me. “I’ll be giving you a bath tonight. Get dressed and I’ll put your boot on when I’m out of the shower.” He gave me a quick kiss and rolled himself back over the bed, heading off into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him.

I frowned at the closed door. Get dressed? I guess a bath would probably be better, but it wasn’t how I normally started the day. I shrugged and just rolled over to where the box of my clothes were. I opted for extremely casual, picking out an oversized pair of sweat pants that I could tie around my waist. I grabbed a pair of white cotton panties and a black satin bra with a black sleeveless top and a black sweater to wear over it. I was dressed and rolling up the left leg of the sweat pants when he came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

He paused and turned his head to the side. I could see the line of his cheekbone. Silky smooth. His hair was combed back away from his face and he raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in something so comfortable,” he mused.

I laughed. “No, Hannibal, I’ve been trying to stay as respectable as I can around you, but sometimes a girl just needs an oversized pair of sweatpants.”

“They look good on you,” he said as he went to the closet to chose his clothes for the day. “I think I like you comfortable.”

“Hannibal, do you ever not like me?” I said it with a smile, but felt a thrill of fear stab through me. What would he say?

He came out of the closet with a maroon shirt and black and red plaid suit in his hands. He came and put his clothes on the bed and came over to stand beside me. He looked down at me with a very serious look on his face. He turned his head to the side again, eyes moving over me. “No, there is never a time where I didn’t like you,” he said very slowly, his accent licking the words as they fell from his mouth. “I’ve been drawn to you since the moment I saw you. I thought you were stunning when I found you in your living room. I knew I had to make you mine from that moment.”

“H-Hannibal, I,” I gaped at him. I had no idea what to say. He smirked and bent to kiss me senseless. His mouth closed over mine and his tongue pushed for access to mine. I groaned and submitted. His hand came up to my face and stroked along it.

When he pulled back, he was still smirking, but there was heat in his eyes. I bit my lip and fought to catch my breath. He licked his and shook his head slowly.

“I need to put your boot on and get dressed,” he almost sighed. “Come to the edge where I can work.”

I scooted as best I could until I could hang my legs over the side of the bed. He knelt, still wrapped in that towel. A memory of just earlier flashed behind my eyes and I swallowed hard while his hands ran up my exposed calf and shin. He wrapped my foot securely and gently put it in the boot, strapping me in tightly. He leaned in and put a kiss on my knee before looking up at me and standing.

“You do wicked things to me, Hannibal,” I sighed. “But I appreciate every single one of them. Thank you.”

He smiled again and nodded before he turned to start getting dressed. I watched him towel off from the bed, biting my lip as I watched the muscles move under his skin down his back and legs and everywhere in between. It was such a shame to cover him up, but he dressed well so it wasn’t too bad. 

Once he had his slacks and shirt on, he turned to me slipping on the waistcoat. He slowly buttoned it, starting from the bottom up. He tilted his head to the side and studied me while I watched him.

“Will you need much more than your computer for work today?” he asked.

“I should really have my phone, too, Hannibal,” I sighed. I didn’t want to, but I needed it to call my sister back, then call and check on my niece and nephews. 

“I don’t think you should have it,” he said. “I’m afraid that the Butcher will call while you’re alone and I don’t want it to cause you any distress while I’m away from you.”

“Hannibal, if he calls, I’ll call you right after and leave a message,” I promised. “I need to have my phone. It usually doesn’t leave my side, but you’ve done your best to keep it from me. I need to do this. You can’t protect me from everything.”

“Of course, I can,” he said simply while he came to sit next to me on the bed. “That’s what I do for you. I keep you from hurting yourself. If he calls while I’m not with you, it will upset you. It may trigger your anxiety and I won’t be here to help you ground yourself.”

“Hannibal, I appreciate the sentiment, but I’ve been dealing with my anxiety all my life. I can take more while you’re not here. Besides, I have my prescription up here, so I can just take one if I feel triggered.”

“You won’t budge on this, will you?” he asked in a low voice, looking down at his hands that were clasped together in his lap. 

“No, Hannibal, I won’t. I’m a big girl. I can deal with this without you being a constant presence in this conflict.”

He reached over and grabbed my hand, lacing his fingers in mine. He gave it a light squeeze. “Do you promise you’ll call?” he asked, looking into my eyes.

“Yes, Hannibal,” I said. “I’ll call you and let you know, but you have patients that need you, too. You need to focus on them today. I’ll be fine.”

“You won’t be fine until he’s dead,” Hannibal said carefully. “It won’t be much longer, Mattea. We’ve set a trap and he’s going to fall into it.” He squeezed my hand again and stood. “Do you need anything before I go down and get your computer?”

“A hair tie would be great, thank you,” I answered. My hair was a mess and it needed to be put away before I had the urge to cut it again. He nodded and went back into the bathroom to my toiletries kit. He retrieved a large elastic and brought it to me while I was piling my hair up on the top of my head. He watched me secure it, then drop my arms into my lap.

“Would you like to wait for me at the desk, or are you alright here?”

“The desk would be great, Hannibal, thank you,” I answered, feeling tired already. It was going to be a long day. He came and pulled me up in front of him. His arms snaked behind me, one hand going to the small of my back, the other to the back of my head. He pulled me close and leaned down to take my mouth again. A slow exploration. He held me in place so I couldn’t pull away until he was ready. As normal, he made me breathless by the time he moved back. Before I could recover, he swept me up into his arms and took me over to his writing desk along the wall beside the fireplace. He settled me down into the chair and kissed the curls on top of my head.

“I’ll go get your computer,” he said and turned to leave.

“And my phone, please,” I reminded him. He paused in the doorway and his shoulders tensed for a moment before he left the room. He really didn’t like the idea of me having my phone without him. He would just have to deal with it. I had phone calls to make and he had work.

It didn’t take him long before he was back, computer and phone in hand. He brought them to me, but he wasn’t entirely happy about it. He put the computer on the desk and helped me plug it in with the power cord he’d gotten from my room. He handed me my phone with a dark look in his eyes.

“You’ve promised to call me if he calls,” he reminded me.

“Yes, Hannibal,” I said with a nod. “I’ll call you and we can talk about it after you’re done with your patients. I need to make some phone calls, you know that. I’ll be ok here without you. I did begin dealing with this Butcher long before you came along, remember?”

“But you don’t have to anymore,” he said, looking down at me. “You aren’t alone anymore. You have me to depend on.”

“And I appreciate everything you’ve done and continue to do for me,” I said with a smile. “You’re a strong presence in my life, almost overpowering. You’re with me even when you’re not with me.”

He smiled lightly and ran his fingertips across my cheek and along my jaw. His touch was soft, barely grazing my skin. “As tave myliu,” he whispered to me before he bent to kiss along my hairline. “I’ll go now. I have to prepare for my first patient. I’ll keep in mind your promises.”

“Have a good day, Hannibal,” I said while still smiling up at him. His eyes searched mine for a moment longer before he turned, grabbed his jacket off the bench, then left the room, closing the door behind him.

I sighed, looking after him at the door. I shook my head slowly and closed my eyes. He was the most demanding lover I’d ever had, both in and out of bed. I knew he was only trying to protect me in his own way, but I was an independent woman and he needed to see that. I was so used to being on my own that it was startling being with someone like him. It was like he’d hungered for whatever I’d given him for so long that he loathed leaving me alone. He had to do it, but he didn’t like it. To be honest, neither did I most of the time. I needed to work, however, and that required me to be by myself. I had to focus, especially since I had a big fight scene that I needed to work on today. That meant going over my notes on how people move during fights. I wasn’t much of a fighter, so I didn’t always know the best way to write the scenes.

I set an alarm on my phone for four hours. I’d focus on what needed to happen in my novel and would always lose track of time. I needed to make these phone calls today. I wasn’t sure what my sister wanted and I was curious to find out.

When the time came, I picked up my phone and found my sister’s contact information. I tapped on it with a finger and heard it dial. She didn’t answer, so I left a message saying that I was free today and she could call back. When I hung up, I called my brother-in-law. He answered on the second ring and we caught up for a while.

“How’s writing going?” he asked. “Doing anything fun?”

“Writing is writing,” I said with a sigh. “It’s challenging and confusing sometimes, but I get through it. I’m not doing much else.”

I didn’t want to tell him about the Butcher. He would get protective and try to make arrangements to come see me, even if I was clear across the country from him. I didn’t want him and Hannibal to meet, for some reason. My brother-in-law was also a very dominant man and it would just be a pissing contest. I wasn’t interested in that. I talked to my niece and she told me everything that was going on with her. She was still in counseling for what happened with her mother and I told her I was sorry for the trauma for the billionth time. I was sorry. It had to be a difficult thing to have your own mother drop you like a bad habit. I checked in on my nephews, who were both doing well and having a great time with school. I was happy to hear from them.

I was still talking to my brother-in-law when Hannibal came into the bedroom. He saw I was on the phone, but at least I was smiling so some of the stiffness went out of his shoulders. He went and sat on the bench and waited for me to finish my call.

“I’m ok, Cliff,” I said after he asked how I was again. “I’m just stressed from work. It’s nothing abnormal. I love you guys. I’ll talk to you next week, ok?”

“Ok, love you, too,” Cliff said and we ended the call.

“You lied to him,” Hannibal said while he was looking down at his hands, clasped between his legs. “You didn’t tell him what you’re going through. Why didn’t you tell him?”

“Because he’d only worry,” I said with a sigh, putting my phone beside my open computer. “He’s a lot like you. He likes to protect people. He considers me his little sister and so he would no doubt come down here and try to take control of the situation. You have everything well taken care of, so I don’t need him to come.”

He looked over at me and I saw his jaw tick. “You’re correct,” he said slowly. “I do have everything under control here. I see your point. As nothing will happen to you, I guess not telling your family that you’re in danger is permittable. I still don’t like it, however.”

“I know, Hannibal, but it’s for the best. I already have enough people worrying about me. I don’t need them to, too.”

“They are your only family,” he observed. “Have you called your sister?”

“Yes, but she didn’t answer,” I said with another sigh. “No doubt it’s about either my mother or my money, maybe both. It’s what she normally wants. They think they have claim to the money I make because I started getting published when I was still a minor. My mother took my royalty checks and spent them on herself.”

“You were already an adult when you were still a child.”

“I started getting published when I was fifteen,” I explained. “I didn’t start making real money off of it until I was sixteen. I managed to stash away some of the money to be able to afford a lawyer, but it took time. The judge granted me financial emancipation almost immediately and I was able to move into my own apartment as soon as I was eighteen. I was finally able to spend the money I made on things for myself. I bought a car, bought furniture, and took care of what I needed to take care of. It was freeing. It was an amazing feeling being by myself completely. I’ve always very much enjoyed being self-sufficient.”

I paused and looked down at the floor. I chewed the inside of my cheek for a few moments. Then I looked back up at him and met his eyes.

“Hannibal,” I started slowly, “I’ve always been a very independent woman. I’ve always been on my own. It’s strange to me to not be alone anymore. I like it, but it’s something I have to get used to. You’re sometimes overwhelming to me. I’m struggling to adjust.”

“I know,” he responded. “I’ve taken control of your life quickly. You’re suddenly someone very important to someone else, when all you’ve ever known is being alone. You’re doing well adjusting to my presence in your life. You’re not fighting it, which I would have expected had things gone differently and we hadn’t become lovers. You’re normally able to control what happens and since your Butcher came into your life, you’ve lost control of everything. You’re watched by FBI agents and you’re my mylimasis, my beloved. You’re someone I will protect with everything I have. Even from yourself. You don’t know how to fully adjust to my presence in your life, but you’ll learn.”

“Hannibal, you have to learn with me,” I sighed. “You need to see that I am a strong and independent person. You have to understand that I usually do everything for myself and that it’s difficult for me to not be able to anymore. If I were still in my own home. . .”

“You’d likely be not eating anything and walking around on your ankle,” he interrupted. “Either that or already taken and dead. You’re much better off here.”

I dropped my gaze against the frankness of his words. He was being blunt, trying to get me to realize that he was taking excellent care of me. I saw it, but it felt like he was beating me over the head with it. 

He must have realized because he continued, “I’m sorry. Being blunt can often be thought of as being rude. Rudeness is ugly to me. I don’t want to be seen as ugly to you.”

“You’re not ugly to me, Hannibal,” I said, my eyes still on the carpet. “You’re stunning, overwhelming, and passionate. I just need you to realize that I can face things and do things on my own.”

“I realize it,” he said from the bench. “I know that you’re independent. I know that you’re very capable of looking after yourself, after all, you’ve been doing it since you were a baby. My only goal is to get you to see that you don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

“Thank you, Hannibal,” I replied, biting my lower lip. I looked up to see him watching me, still bent over his lap with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped between them. His head was tilted to the side and his face was serious. His eyes moved over me, looking for something. He frowned and dropped his gaze. I didn’t know if he found what he was looking for or not.

“I wanted to check on you,” he explained to the carpet. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t pushing yourself too hard.”

“You also wanted to see if the Butcher had called,” I added.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I know you’ll keep your promise, but a part of me still worries. I don’t want you facing this alone.”

“I’m not alone, Hannibal,” I smiled. “I have you. I’ll never be alone again.”

He turned and smiled at me, his eyes crinkling a bit around the edges. I liked that smile. It was a good smile. It made me feel warm and fuzzy all over when he smiled at me like that. I couldn’t help but blush a little by it.

“You’re very correct,” he said and he stood. “I’m here for you. I’ll never leave you.” He walked closer to me and my eyes came up to his face. That smile was still there. Once he was beside me, he bent to taste my lips. His hand came to the front of my throat, his fingers lightly pushing against my pulse point, like he was reassuring himself that I was alive and well while his mouth moved over mine. When he pulled back, he leaned his head against mine and his hand came up to caress my jaw. “Tu visada busi mano ir as visada busi tavo,” he whispered with his eyes closed.

“Hannibal, I don’t understand,” I said looking up at him.

“You do,” he said while pulling back. “You just don’t know you do.”

“When is your next patient?” I asked as he pulled back. 

He glanced at his watch and said, “In about twenty minutes. I just needed to see you, needed to kiss you.”

“Do you hunger for me, Hannibal?” I asked, sitting back in my chair and smiling up at him.

“Only every second of every day,” he responded, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll be able to taste you again tonight.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of tasting me?”

“No, never. I’ll never grow tired of how you feel against me, how soft your skin is, and how you smell like warm vanilla. I’ll never get used to seeing you in all your beauty, even in extremely large sweat pants and especially in a revealing top. I look forward to taking them off you tonight.”

I blushed and dropped my gaze only to have him hook a finger under my chin to draw my eyes back up to his. He ran his thumb over the tip of my chin, then back along my jaw.

“Tu man skonis grazi,” he said slowly. He let his hand fall away and he stepped back. “I need to prepare for my next patient. I’ll let you get back to work.” I smiled and nodded up to him, then watched him walk out the door, closing it behind him. I looked after him and just sighed. I had no idea what he was saying to me, but it had to be good. He said it in such a tender way that it made me shiver and blush all at once, even while I didn’t know what he meant.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end has come.

The rest of the day went smoothly. I got into my fight scene. As always, I would re-read it over and over again to make sure it made sense. It was hard for me since I was far from a fighter, but I’d studied MMA and kick boxing to describe it adequately enough. It was getting dark in the room, only the glow of the computer screen lit up the room. I was fully engrossed in what I was writing when my phone started ringing. I didn’t even look at the screen, thinking it was my sister calling me back and just swept to answer.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I asked casually.

“My bride,” the Butcher breathed. “Are you alone now? Is your FBI man next to you?”

I froze and held my breath, biting my lip. I didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t hear him,” he said lowly. “He’s left you alone, you who he calls his. He’s left you undefended against me. He’s abandoned you.”

The door opened suddenly and I jumped, thinking it was him coming through the door for me. I looked over my shoulder to see Hannibal stride in. He took one look at me and his jaw clenched. “Put it on speaker,” he instructed quietly. I pulled the phone away from my face and hit the speaker icon.

“He hasn’t left me undefended,” I said back. “He has me locked away like a canary in his ivory tower. You won’t be able to get to me.”

“He’s abandoned you,” the Butcher said again, giving an evil chuckle. “He’s left you. I’ll never leave you. Once I have you, I’ll make you mine forever.”

“I already belong to someone much stronger than you,” I said, my voice shaking as I spoke. “He’s never far and he’ll never abandon me.”

“He’s not there now,” said the Butcher.

“I’m here,” Hannibal said simply. “I’m right next to her, always. She’s mine and she chose me over you. She’s with me and will never be with you. She’s in my bed, she loves me and she’ll never love you.”

“NO!” the Butcher shouted. “She’s MINE!! You stole her from me. She didn’t say no to me when I first met her, long before you did! If you hadn’t come along, she’d be with me forever. You’re temporary. I’ll do away with you soon.”

“No, your threat to her is already ended,” Hannibal said calmly. “You just don’t know it yet.” He put a hand on my shoulder, seeing the phone shake in my hand. “You’re old news to her now. You’re nothing to her but a fly that needs to be swatted.”

The Butcher bellowed in rage on the other end of the line. He just screamed into the phone and I jumped, closing my eyes. I felt dread filling me quickly and steadily. My hand shook so much I almost dropped my phone before Hannibal took it out of my grasp. 

“I’ll swat you like a fly, Dr. Lecter,” the Butcher said in a rough voice. “Yes, I know who you are now. I’ve looked into you. You’re weak. You won’t be able to keep her from me.”

“No, I’m stronger than you can ever imagine,” Hannibal responded. He didn’t even twitch when the Butcher said his name. He just turned his head to the side. “Try and test me. We’ll see who the victor is.”

“I’m coming, my bride,” the Butcher breathed again. “I’m coming for you and I’ll have you.” Then the call ended. I finally let go of the breath I’d been holding in and gulped to try and settle my heartbeat. Hannibal put my phone on my keyboard and dropped to one knee beside me. He turned me in my seat and grabbed my hands.

“Mattea, look at me,” he said sternly. I took a few more deep, gasping breaths before my eyes came to his. “You did very well. You stood your ground. Now we know that he’s focusing on you and not someone else. We can prepare for him to come. I think it would be best to keep you out of the kitchen in case he tries to enter that way again.”

His hands held mine tightly and I closed my eyes while he was talking. My throat was dry and my breathing was labored. I still had dread filling me, making me shiver uncontrollably. When he realized that I was just shaking harder in his grasp, he stood and pulled me up along his body, wrapping his arms around my back under mine, making me reach up to his shoulders. He rocked me gently and pet my hair with one hand, resting his cheek on the top of my head. He hushed me softly and comforted me. He kept whispering in another language.

“As tave, visus, saugosiu, mano meile,” he whispered. “As niekada taves nepaleisiu.” I just shivered in his arms, closing my eyes against the darkness of the room, and clung to him. He repeated himself over and over, uttering promises in a foreign language to me. I didn’t understand, but they still comforted me.

I slowly began to warm up, the fear and dread starting to recede into my mind. My hands didn’t cling so hard and my breathing slowed. The shivering lessened and my arms dropped so that my hands were on his shoulders instead of around his neck.

“Are you alright, Mattea?” he asked, pulling away just enough to look down at me. I didn’t look up. I didn’t want him to see the last threads of fear pulling through me. I just nodded lightly. “Don’t lie, Mattea. You’re afraid and you have every right to be, but you have nothing to fear from this Butcher of yours. He won’t surprise us again. He says he’s coming. I’m not sure if I should call Jack or not, though I’m certain he’ll hear the call. I’m rather hoping for the Butcher to come before he gets the alert.”

The phone beside his bed rang and I yelped, tipping backwards. Hannibal’s arms stayed around me and didn’t let me fall, but it did make him shift his stance a bit. He brought me back up against his body to put a kiss along the back of my neck. Then he helped me sit down so he could go answer the phone.

“Hello?” he said. “Jack, I was just about to call you.” Hannibal looked over his shoulder at me as I curled into myself on the chair. He turned and came back to stand next to me. “Yes, she was very brave,” he said into the receiver. “I thought it would be best if he didn’t know I was here until after he spoke to her a bit.” He paused, then, “Yes, I heard him say that. I know you’ll step up security. I’m not letting her go into the kitchen in case he tries that way again. I’ll be keeping her either in the bedroom upstairs or in the dining room while I cook tonight.” He paused and listened again. “We’ll be seeing you soon, then. Goodbye, Jack.”

Once he clicked the receiver off, he put it down next to my computer and knelt down on one leg again. I hadn’t noticed that he wasn’t wearing a jacket until then. Just his waistcoat. His hands came up to my face, his thumbs near my ears while his fingers threaded through my hair to touch each other. He brought my eyes to his, his face was very serious. I took a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly.

“That’s it, Mattea,” he encouraged me. “Take slow, deep breaths. Jack already knows that he called, so he’ll be here in just a while. I’ve already started dinner. We’re having lamb tonight. It should be ready when Jack gets here. I’ve made enough for all of us, even if he brings Will with him.”

“Did you anticipate this, Hannibal?” I asked slowly.

“Not anticipate, but I thought he might call today. If he calls, then Jack wants to come talk about it. Jack loves to talk about things, speculate and observe situations. I’m sure he’s having a hard time observing our situation still.”

I smiled at that and he rewarded me with a returning one. He leaned up and gently took my mouth with his. I tasted wine on his lips, a deep red wine, full bodied. He’d been drinking a bit. I didn’t comment when he pulled back, just looked down at him.

“Have you had a good day, Hannibal?” I asked, desperately wanting to change the subject from my trauma to something normal. His smile broadened, knowing exactly what I was doing. He pulled his hands from around my head to go down my throat to just above my collar bone. His thumbs met in front of my neck and I swallowed. So much strength in those hands. He could easily choke the life from me and I knew it. I swallowed again.

“My patients were mildly entertaining,” he answered and stood slowly. “I do enjoy my job but it can get tedious at times. I like to shake things up sometimes with my therapy. I can be a bit . . . unorthodox at times.”

I smiled again. “I have no doubt,” I said with a sigh. I slouched a bit in my chair as he moved away. I watched him go into the bathroom and flick on the light, closing the door behind him. I guess the wine went right through him.

I looked to my computer screen. I wasn’t sure if I’d be continuing or not for the night, so I hit the save icon, just in case. I heard the sink come on and took a deep breath. I hadn’t had a full melt-down. I was getting better at this.

He opened the door a moment later, smoothing his waistcoat over his chest and stomach. He looked at me and gave me a small smile. 

“You did well tonight,” he said, turning his head to the side. “You had anxiety, but you didn’t let it completely overtake you. You were afraid, but you still had your wits about you. You told him that you were mine. You told him you weren’t alone. You’ve finally accepted that you’re not alone. You recognize it now.”

“I’ve recognized it for a while, Hannibal,” I said with a soft smile. “I just told him that to enrage him. I knew that he wouldn’t like me accepting you. I knew that denying his right to me would push him further into acting impulsively.”

“You did well,” he said again. “You fear him, but you’re not succumbing to the fear any longer. You’re pushing back. I like it.”

“Do you really think he’ll come tonight?” I asked him, nibbling my bottom lip again.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “He said he’s coming, but he could take days to make his move. Jack has no doubt added security to whatever we had to begin with. I’d rather take care of this threat myself, but if he falls to Jack’s men, at least the threat is over.”

“Do you really want to kill him that much?” I asked, frowning.

“Yes, I do,” he answered. “You said yourself that he’s violated my home. That’s true. That’s disrespectful. He has also claimed what’s mine. That’s also rude. He wants to think of you as his and that cannot be allowed any longer. You’re mine, my lover, my beloved. Every bit of you is mine. You’re mine to love and mine to protect. I will protect you with everything I have and you will finally be safe.” He paused. “You said you were in an ivory tower, locked away. Do you feel like you’re my prisoner?”

“No, Hannibal,” I said. “I don’t feel trapped by you. I feel cherished. You have me here where there is so much that he has to overcome to get to me. I have no doubt that you’ll protect me. I know that I can depend on you.” He rewarded me with a warm smile.

“You’re not my prisoner,” he said, coming close to me and looking down at me. “You’re my love, my heart. I cannot let this threat to continue. We need to end it, and soon.”

“You will, Hannibal,” I said softly, looking up the line of him. “I know you will. He’ll fall either by your hand or Crawford’s. I must admit, I do hope it’s by yours. He’ll be gone if you do it. If Crawford does it, he always has a chance at escaping prison and coming back again.”

He smiled again and something glittered in his eyes in the dark. Something primitive, something deep and dark. He wanted to kill him and he knew now that I wanted him to kill him. Somehow, that made him happy. I liked seeing it, even if it gave me some dark thrill.

“Come, Mattea,” he said finally, pulling me up with one hand to stand close to him. “I’ll take you downstairs to the living room. You can wait there until I finish with dinner.”

“What will I do while you cook?” I asked, slowly running my arms up and around his shoulders, holding him close.

“You’ll wait patiently while I check the lamb,” he said. “It’s a roast. It has about twenty minutes left on it before it’s ready. I just need to check on it and then I’ll join you in the living room.”

“So you won’t be gone long?” I asked, leaning in to put my head against his chest. I listened to the steady beat of his heart, then heard his voice rumble through him.

“No, I could never be gone long from you,” he answered, his face going down to smell my hair. “I can’t bare to be far from you for long. Today was difficult enough.”

“You weren’t gone forever, Hannibal,” I sighed against him. “Just a few hours.”

“A few hours too long,” he said, leaning in to brush a kiss along the back of my neck. I shivered for him and goosebumps spread across my skin. He reached up and ran his hands along my arms. “I can read you like brail like this. I love to feel goosebumps on you. You’re so reactive for me.” His arms went around me again and I sighed into his chest. “Are you ready, Mattea?” I nodded and he swept me up in his arms. I nuzzled down into his shoulder, burying my face in him and smelling him deep. He smelled of sandalwood and musk. I loved the smell of him, savored it like he did mine. He ran his cheek along the top of my head and sighed. “As tave myliu,” he said against my curly hair.

“I love you, too, Hannibal,” I said against his chest.

He just gave a light chuckle and started walking me out of the bedroom, down the hall, then down the stairs. He didn’t pause a moment until he had me in the living room, the light already on, and he settled me into the couch. 

“I’ll teach you,” he said as he stood. “I’ll teach you to tell me that in every language I can think of. I never tire of hearing it from you, just like I never tire of saying it to you.” I just smiled up at him before he took a deep sigh and turned to leave. He paused at the door, turning back to look at me. He didn’t say anything, he just looked. His eyes moved over what he could see and I knew that tonight, I wouldn’t get away from him. Tonight, he’d cover me with his body and surge into me over and over again. I took a shuttering breath and licked my lips. He just smiled, then left the room.

I was left alone. My thoughts were my only company. I thought of my chapters, the way my novel was progressing. Then I realized that my phone was upstairs and my sister hadn’t called me back yet. I sighed and decided that I could deal with it later. She only wanted something from me. She could wait to make her demands until tomorrow. If she didn’t answer when I called again, that was on her. Not on me.

I was lost in thought when Hannibal came back into the room. I was staring off into the distance. I was vaguely aware that he was there, having recognized his expensive leather loafers clicking on the floor of the foyer. I was thinking of my sister, my family, of how they never treated me as an equal throughout my entire life. I thought of how they always treated me like I was tainted, spoiled and therefore, no good to any of them.

“Are you thinking of your Butcher?” he asked from the doorway. He had his apron on and he was wiping his hands with it when I looked over.

“No, I’m thinking of my family,” I answered. “I’m thinking of how my sister has called me and the only time she does that is when she wants something from me. I’m thinking of how they treated me as a child and into adulthood. I’m thinking of how I always felt alone. Until I met you.” I finished with a gentle smile and tilted my head, looking at him in his face, his honeyed eyes.

He stepped in and slowly made his way to the chair across from me. “I’m sorry that no one was ever there for you when you were small,” he said, frowning at the floor. “I’m sorry your life was so empty of love and affection. I can only hope to make up for it as much as I can.”

“Oh, Hannibal,” I said, smiling at him, “you more than make up for it. I’ve never been happier in my life. I have someone to share it with now.”

“Even with your Butcher breathing down the back of your neck?”

“It’s not him breathing me in, Hannibal, it’s you. You comfort and sooth and protect. He won’t get to me with you at my back.”

“I do love to be behind you,” he said with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I’m looking forward to when you heal up and I can have you above me.”

“Why do I need to heal for that?” I asked and winked.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he answered.

“I won’t, I promise you.”

His eyes darkened and became hooded. I knew he was picturing it and I knew it excited him. It excited me, too. I licked my lips and he shot forward, coming to me, hovering above me. His hands framed my face and he watched me just a few inches above me. I sat back and looked up at him and let my teeth find my bottom lip, my hands itching to touch him. His eyes went to my teeth. His mouth parted and I could feel his breath on my face. He was so close, all I had to do was lean forward and our lips would touch. I waited for him. I knew he would come; I just didn’t know how.

He finally lowered his mouth to mine, lightly kissing me, his fingers threading through my hair while his thumbs feathered over my chin. His mouth moved over mine slowly, gently. He kissed me as if he was kissing away the pain of my past. He kissed me to remind me that it was all over. I was with him and I would never be alone again.

There was a knock at the door and Hannibal sighed, still kissing me. His mouth still moved over mine softly. His thumbs still lightly grazed my chin, keeping me tilted up to him. He slipped his tongue into my mouth and I moaned for him. I rubbed mine along his and his hands clenched around my face. He growled into my mouth and further deepened the kiss, tasting me, devouring me. 

The knock came again, along with the doorbell. Hannibal pulled back a few inches. I opened my eyes to see his still closed, his jaw ticking.

“In the coming days, I’m going to dismantle that doorbell,” he grumbled before he stood and sighed, straightening his waistcoat along his front. I noticed a slight bulge in the front of him and blushed. I’d had an effect on him and the kiss only stirred him more. He looked down at me and took a deep breath before he went to answer the door.

I heard Crawford’s voice in the foyer. He didn’t sound happy as he came in. 

“Well, you two have gotten what you wanted from the sounds of it,” he griped as he came into the living room where I was sitting. “He’s completely fixated on you. You denied him in so many ways that he’ll most likely be determined to make you wrong.”

“Hello, Jack, won’t you come in?” I heard Hannibal say in the foyer. He sounded annoyed and I saw his jaw tick when he walked in behind Crawford. “We had a plan and I’d say the plan is working. Mattea handled herself very well on that call.” He came to stand near me and brushed his hand along my shoulder.

“You two were reckless yesterday,” Crawford scolded. “You were impulsive and now he’s completely focused on gaining his ‘bride’ as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, Jack, I think we’ve been over that,” Hannibal said, his annoyance almost palpable. “We had a plan, we’ve stuck to the plan, and now he’ll fall into your trap.”

“The angrier he gets, the more likely that he’ll attack impulsively,” Crawford replied. “We have people watching this place twenty-four hours a day. There is no going in or going out without us knowing about it. You’re protected, but the more you push him, the more dangerous the game. I would hope you know that.”

“Yes, Jack,” Hannibal sighed. “We have faith in your ability to protect the house. We have no doubt in you. It would be courteous if you stopped doubting us.”

“You’ve shown a shocking lack of insight in this situation, Dr. Lecter,” Crawford said glumly.

“How have I done that?” Hannibal bristled. This was not going to go well.

“You’re sleeping with the witness and target. How is that not a lack of insight?”

Hannibal shifted. I looked up at him and saw him grinding his teeth, the muscles in his jaw working. His eyes were down to the carpet, glittering with something tantamount to rage. I reached over and took his hand in mine, slipping my fingers around his as much as my little hands could. It brought his gaze to me and the rage lessened. He took a deep breath, wrapped his long fingers around mine, and gave them a squeeze. He smiled a bit and brought his eyes back up to Crawford who had just stood there, staring at our joined hands.

“Who I’m sleeping with is really no concern of yours,” Hannibal corrected. “It just so happens that she is a target and witness in this situation. In case you forgot, I’m a witness and target now, as well. I will keep her safe in my home and you’ll make sure she’s safe outside of home. You will monitor who comes near it.”

“It’s my concern when she’s supposed to be under your protection and instead of looking after her wellbeing, you take her to bed,” Crawford returned. “It would make things a hell of a lot easier to keep an eye out if we knew who was coming and going.”

“We’ve been over this, Jack. She’s safer with me than she would be if I let her be on her own,” Hannibal said with a slight sigh. “I also see patients from my home offices and you knew that when you met me the very first time.”

“Yes, Dr. Lecter, I did,” Crawford sighed. I could see some of that anger deflating from him and I gave Hannibal’s hand a returning squeeze. “I know it’s a violation of doctor/patient confidentiality to ask who is coming when. If you could at least give us the times of your appointments, we will be able to guard things a bit easier.”

“Of course, Jack,” Hannibal said reasonably. An alarm was going off deeper in the house. “Dinner is ready. Would you like to join us, Jack? I’ve made enough for everyone.”

“No, but thank you, Dr. Lecter,” Crawford answered. “I’ll see myself out.” He gave a slight bow and walked backwards out of the room, turning to go out the door.

Hannibal just stood there, looking at the doorway. His hand still held mine and I could feel a distinct vibration down his arm. He was angry, but he was trying to reign it in. 

“Hannibal, the alarm,” I pointed out. I broke his spell. He looked down at me and a small smile flashed across his face. 

“Yes, dinner,” he said. He turned and pulled me up along his body. His arms went around my waist and pulled me close to him. He tilted his head and his eyes glittered with mischief instead of anger. He leaned down and grasped me around the waist, lifting me to see eye to eye with him. “I get to have you to myself again tonight. I can’t express how much that means to me.”

“I’m glad, Hannibal,” I said and leaned in to kiss him. I’d only meant to leave a brush of lips across his mouth, but he made it into more. He kissed me with all that fiery passion he’d held in his anger, turning it into something sensual, something searing. His tongue brushed my lips and I opened up for him. He licked along my teeth, rubbed his tongue as deeply along mine as he could without choking me. I moaned and ran my hands through his hair, returning his emotion. I didn’t even notice that we were in the dining room until he let me slide down his body, his mouth following me down. He didn’t pull back until he sat me down in the chair.

“I’ll go get dinner,” he panted while he rested his forehead on mine, his eyes closed. “You stay here. I’ll be with you soon.” I nodded and closed my eyes while he pulled away and went into the kitchen.

I let go of a deep breath that I didn’t know I was holding. Hannibal was so passionate about things, and about me, it seemed. He didn’t like Crawford telling that he was being unprofessional. Hannibal was always very polite and took himself very seriously. Having someone question his behavior was unpleasant for him. I almost wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t redirected him. Would he have lashed out? Would he have completely lost his carefully crafted composure? I didn’t know. And I didn’t know what he would have done had he lashed out. He was almost scary when he got like that.

Hannibal came in with a lovely roast on a platter with lots of small potatoes. I could smell the garlic and rosemary and my mouth watered. It looked beautiful and smelled delicious, just like every meal that he made. He placed it gently at the head of the table between our two elegant place settings. He gave me a smile as he took up a carving knife and a serving fork, clicking them together before he took to the meat. He cut me two thin slices of lamb, and put them on my plate. Then he used a large serving spoon to add some potatoes to the lamb. 

“Thank you, Hannibal, it smells amazing,” I said with a warm smile. I watched him repeat his actions and serve himself. He set down the serving utensils and sat in his seat across from me.

“As always, Mattea, you’re very welcome,” he replied, returning my smile. He took up his knife and fork and began eating. I followed his lead.

“I’m sorry that Crawford upset you tonight,” I said after a few bites. The lamb was roasted perfectly, the meat melted in my mouth. The potatoes had slightly crispy skin and a soft center. The juices from the lamb had soaked into them, giving them a gamy flavor.

“Jack feels passionately that I have overstepped my bounds,” he responded. “He thinks that our relationship blocks us from seeing the whole picture. He thinks my claim to you compromises your safety.”

“He doesn’t understand,” I mused. “Our feelings for each other makes our desire to protect one another stronger. Your claim to me, and therefore, mine to you, makes you just that much more interested in making sure we’re not hurt.”

He watched me, turning his head to the side. “Your claim to me?” he asked.

I smiled again. “Yes, Hannibal. You’re mine just as I’m yours. I can’t let anything happen to you. I care for you too much.”

He took a bite and thought while he chewed. I could see things flicker through his eyes that moved over me slowly. He studied me carefully. I could almost feel him caress me. I dropped my gaze to the food in front of me and nibbled my lip. I didn’t know what he was thinking or how he felt about what I said. I hoped he didn’t think it was rude in any way.

“We’ve talked about love,” he said suddenly. “We’ve both told each other that we love one another. You know I love you, just like I know you love me. I’ve never had anyone claim me this way. I’ve never had anyone accept me the way you have done. Somehow I know that you’ll accept whatever I throw at you.”

“Of course, I will, Hannibal,” I said with my eyes still down at my plate. “It feels strange to me, too, but it’s nice. I like how you make me feel.”

“Mattea, look at me,” he said. I frowned and bit my lips together from the inside. I slowly raised my eyes to meet his. He was eating his meal like normal, but his eyes were dark. “You fear how I make you feel, don’t you?”

“I’m afraid that I’ve let you take over my soul and that you won’t want it anymore,” I sighed. “I’m afraid that you’ll see what everyone else sees and decide I’m tainted.”

He frowned and chewed his food carefully. “I’ve delved into your mind, into your past,” he said finally. “I’ve turned over stones that haven’t been moved for decades. I’ve seen everything there is to see, and I love every bit of you. There is nothing that you could do, say, or reveal that would make me change my mind. You are far from tainted. You are pure. You are wanted. I want you. I want all of you.”

I felt a tear slide down my cheek and I let out a shuddering breath. His frown deepened when he saw the tear. He set down his fork and knife and pushed back his chair. He stood and came to stand next to me. I watched him come, more tears spilling. He reached out with one hand and gently pushed them away. He was still frowning when he bent to kiss my forehead. 

“Don’t fear something that will never happen,” he whispered along my hairline. “I will never deny you. I will never turn you away. You are mine now and for always.”

“H-Hannibal,” I whispered back, closing my eyes. He hushed me and ran a finger under my chin to raise my face to his. His lips swept across mine, just a light kiss. It was enough to have me open my eyes again. He was bent over me, his eyes searching mine.

“No more tears, Mattea,” he said calmly. “You’ve cried enough from the pain you have suffered. I would like to replace all of those anguished memories with love and light. I want to fill you with as much light as I can, as much as you’re willing to allow me to.”

“I’ll let you do anything,” I said softly. He kissed me again, gentle and calm. There was only a hint of the passion that I knew would boil over and consume me all over again.

“Finish your dinner,” he instructed. “You haven’t eaten all day. I really need to work on feeding you more often.” He moved back to his seat, sliding himself under the table. I just watched him. His words echoed in my brain. I just watched him pick up his fork and knife and begin eating again. All I could do was watch.

I guess he felt my eyes on him and he looked up from his meal. He frowned and rested his hands against the edge of the table. “Are you not hungry?” he asked. I just stared at him. He set his cutlery down again and leaned back in his chair. “Is something wrong, Mattea?”

“N-no,” I stuttered out, taking a deep breath and dropping my eyes to my lap. “Nothing is wrong, Hannibal. I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” he asked, turning his head to the side.

“How did I get this lucky?” It was whispered, hushed in the silence of the room. Hannibal tilted his head again, frowning at me.

“Lucky?” he asked.

“You’re an educated, talented, intelligent, sensual, masterful man,” I said in the same hushed tone. “You chose me and I still don’t understand. I’m nothing. I’m no one to anyone. I’ve never been anything to anyone all my life, yet you still chose me. I don’t understand.”

Hannibal’s frown slowly turned up to a hint of a smile. He sat up and took up his fork again, stabbing into a bit of lamb, bringing it up to his mouth and chewing, all while looking at me directly in the eye. They never went anywhere else, just my eyes. He chewed slowly, then swallowed. He remained quiet for another moment.

“I have explained to you before as to what drew me to you,” he said. “I’ve only come to admire you more while I learn more about you. You were cast out of your own life when you were just a baby, yet here you are. A strong, clever, interesting woman. You’re so passionate, so endearing in everything you do.” He paused for a moment, a smile ticking at his lips. “I looked you up today.”

I frowned. “You looked me up today?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

“I looked up your books,” he answered. “I read your reviews, read of how you’re received. You have many followers, many people that love your work and eagerly await more of it. I read a few chapters of one of them. You’re right, you’re very descriptive. You describe love, but you’ve never known it. Now, you know it. You have something to draw upon. As myliu tave dabar ir per amzius. Dabar ir visada. You know it’s true.”

“You love me,” I sighed lightly. “I know you love me, but I don’t understand why.”

“Because you’re you,” he answered. “You’re Mattea Smith, a woman who grew up too fast and was always abandoned. You’re a woman who fought to get to the top. You’re strong, powerful. Why wouldn’t I want you to be mine?”

I smiled then, just a small one. It still made no sense to me, but I don’t think he would ever lie to me. I accepted it as truth. I took up my knife and fork and began eating, still shaking my head. I glanced up to see him smiling and watching me eat. A moment later, I heard his cutlery against his plate.

We ate the rest of our meal in relative silence. What we didn’t finish, Hannibal tucked away, saying that he’d make some sandwiches with the left-over meat tomorrow for lunch. I waited for him to come back from rinsing the dishes and putting the food away. I heard him moving around and it was oddly comforting, just sitting in his dining room while he toiled away. I thought back on his words, on everything that had happened in less than a week, and I smiled. How did I get this lucky?

There the sudden sound of glass shattering. I jumped and fell out of my chair, landing on the other side from the doorway. I looked around and saw darkness, but I felt someone there. I heard Hannibal shouting from the kitchen. I fought to sit up, ducking behind the chair. 

Hannibal was in the room somewhere, I could hear him calling out my name. I called for him, reassured him that I was ok. He told me to stay hidden. I fought to get up on my knees so I could move faster if I needed to. 

There was another sound, something like a blow dart being shot. I couldn’t tell exactly where it came from other than from outside. Something was burning in my chest from my side. I didn’t understand. I heard the crunch of footsteps over glass and Hannibal shouting in the distance. I knelt on the ground beside my chair gasping, suddenly unable to catch my breath. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest. I fought to breathe and I looked up as the Butcher stepped through the glass. He had a gun with something screwed into the barrel. He was nearly standing over me, smiling down at me.

“I’ve got you, my bride,” he said triumphantly. “I’ve got you. He’s lost you.”

“Mattea!” I heard Hannibal shout. I tried to call back to him and choked up something warm. He called my name again and I saw him come up behind the Butcher. I saw him kick the Butcher in the back of the leg and watched him fall. Hannibal stood behind him with a kitchen knife raised. His eyes were wild, looking for me. When he finally found me on the ground it was like the breath was knocked out of him. He stabbed down hard directly in the Butcher’s chest, burying the knife up to the hilt. He then came over and put his knee behind the Butcher’s arm up high, then reached and jerked his arm backwards. I heard a sick crunch as he broke the Butcher’s arm, causing him to drop the gun. Then Hannibal fell to come to me. 

He crawled to me over the glass, cutting his hands. He turned me to lay flat on my back and he searched me. I felt him cover my side with both of his hands. I coughed again and more red, hot blood spilled out of my mouth.

“No, no, no, no,” I heard Hannibal say over and over. He pressed hard against my side with one hand, the other coming to my face to wipe away the blood, only smearing it across my skin. “Mattea, stay with me!” he called. That burning sensation took over me. My lungs struggled to fill. “Mattea! Don’t close your eyes!”

“H-Hannibal,” I gasped out. “I love you.”

“No, Mattea!” he cried. I looked up into his eyes and saw tears falling down his cheeks. I reached up with a bloody hand and pushed some away from one cheek, leaving a stark streak of blood after my fingers. He grabbed my hand and held it to his face. “Stay with me. Don’t close your eyes.”

“Thank you, Hannibal,” I whispered. Darkness was starting to close in. I coughed up more blood, some of it getting on his face.

“No, Mattea, mano mylimoji nepalik manes,” he said, leaning his head on mine. His tears spilled down my cheeks. “Don’t go, please, my love.”

“I love you,” I whispered again as the darkness came.

Epilogue

She was gone, slipped through his fingers as her blood spilled onto the floor. He felt her pulse slow, then stop. His heart ached; his tears fell as he held her still hand to his cheek, her eyes open and staring blankly into his. She was gone and he couldn’t stop it.

“I took her from you,” whispered the dead man behind him. Hannibal’s face went still, tears still trickling out of his eyes, through the blood that stained his cheeks. He slowly put her hand along her waist after kissing the top of it. Then he stood and turned.

The Butcher lay on the floor, his own blood pouring out, his arm lay bent in the wrong direction. He was smiling, joy filling his face as he looked up at Hannibal. Hannibal took another step forward to him. It wasn’t far, but the Butcher had come too close to her already. Hannibal’s face was stone cold as he looked down at the man that had just robbed him of his treasure, his love. 

Hannibal bent at the waist and reached for the knife that was in the Butcher’s chest. The Butcher tried to fight him off with the one hand that was still working. Hannibal reached for it, grabbing the Butcher’s fingers and jerking them backwards, breaking them. He cried out in pain and Hannibal just looked at him. Just watched him as he suffered. He jerked the knife out of the Butcher’s flesh, a wet sound echoing in the air.

“I took her from you,” the Butcher repeated, gasping for air. “She’s mine now. She’s my bride now.”

“She will always be mine,” Hannibal said slowly. He stepped around the Butcher’s crouched form. “She loves me and I love her, now and forever. You will never have her.” With both his arm and his hand broken, the Butcher was no longer much of a threat. Hannibal reached for the broken arm and the Butcher screamed as he hoisted him up over his shoulder. He had plans for this killer, this thing that had destroyed his love. He carried him into the kitchen, into the wine cellar, lifting a small trap door in the floor. He threw the Butcher down the steps, listening to him scream as he went, then stepped down after him.

He secured the Butcher on a table, tying him down so he couldn’t move, then silenced his painful grunts with a gag. He smiled evilly at the Butcher.

“I have you now,” Hannibal said. “You killed that whom I loved and I will make you pay slowly. For now, I have to deal with the aftermath of your invasion. Wait right here for me.”  
Hannibal turned and the Butcher started shouting through his gag. That wouldn’t do with the police no doubt coming. He walked over to where he had paralytics and needles placed. He picked up atracurium, one of his favorites, and injected it into the Butcher’s neck. Instantly, he quieted. That should last for a few hours. By then, the police should have left.

Hannibal was closing the trap door firmly when the FBI busted in through the front door. He had just enough time to reach Mattea’s still body before they spilled into the dining room. Hannibal scooped up her head and his tears returned. He held her to his chest and rocked her, trying to comfort her empty body. She was gone and he knew it. She would never come back to him.

“Dr. Lecter!” came Jack’s voice from somewhere far away. Hannibal didn’t trust his voice to call back, knowing it would crack. He just waited for him to come. “Medics!” Jack called again as he reached Hannibal’s knelt form.

“She’s gone, Jack,” Hannibal wept. “He shot her in the chest. She choked to death on her own blood. She’s gone. I failed her.”

“You had no way of knowing that he would come in this way,” Jack said, attempting to comfort him. “Come away, let us process the scene.”

“I can’t leave her, Jack,” he said, tears pouring down his cheeks as he held her head to his chest, her curls a mess of chocolate brown and blood. “I lost her.”

“Come on, Dr. Lecter,” Jack said. “Let us do what we can to try and find her killer. Did you see him?”

“I stabbed him, but it was too late,” Hannibal said as he gently put Mattea’s head back on the floor. He ran his bloody hand along her cheek and sniffed, closing her brown, sightless eyes. “He killed her before I even realized he was here.”

Jack pulled Hannibal up and away from Mattea’s body as it lay still on his dining room floor. He guided Hannibal out of the room and further to an ambulance that was in front of his house. Tears continued to fall from his empty gaze while they worked to try and clean him up. He barely responded, instead thinking over and over in his mind that he’d lost his beloved. She was gone forever.

Jack emerged from the house a while later and came up to the ambulance that Hannibal still sat in. “We’ve processed the scene,” he said glumly. 

Hannibal’s eyes looked up and saw a black body bag being brought out of the front door. There she went. Gone from his life forever just when he’d found her. He closed his eyes and dropped his head forward, tears washing his cheeks. She was gone.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Doctor,” Jack said softly. He put a hand on Hannibal’s shoulder to comfort him. “We’ll find this son of a bitch and bring him to justice.”

He’ll find justice at the end of my scalpel, Hannibal thought darkly to himself. He would slowly kill him and enjoy every moment of it. Such plans he had. For now, he mourned the loss of a wonderful creature that had filled him with raw passion for just the few short days she was with him. He would always remember her. He would always see her when he closed his eyes at night. She was his forever in memory. Forever.


End file.
